


The Resolute Urgency Of Now

by Emelye



Series: The Resolute Urgency of Now [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Beginnings, Developing Relationship, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emelye/pseuds/Emelye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dru gave me a hundred years of grand passion.  What she never gave me was one chance to be first in her affections. Five minutes with you and I feel like the only man in the world.  I'd trade ten lifetimes with Dru for ten more minutes with you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the hottest November on record. Xander knew this because every single radio station he tuned to couldn't shut up about it, which had the effect of making the shirt plastered to his back with sweat and gypsum just that much more gross.

He turned it off in disgust.

The shop bell jingled and Giles looked up from his ledger as Xander came through the door. "Xander? Why aren't you at work?"

Xander passed a sweat soaked bandana across his brow. Dawn was draped across a pile of books. Spike was lounging by the stairs, his coat folded neatly beside him, his only apparent concession to the triple-digit heat wave. Anya was nowhere to be found. "Too hot. Guys were getting heat stroke, so they shut the site down for the afternoon."

Dawn seemed to be melting into the table, oblivious to his big entrance. This was unacceptable.

Before he had a chance to react, Xander threw himself on Spike, pressing his cheek against the vampire's forehead. "Mmm. Cool vampire," he taunted.

"Oi…get off me!" Spike shouted, shoving a laughing Xander away where he fell with exaggerated violence to the floor. "Ugh. You stink, Harris."

"You love my manly aroma," he teased from his prone position. Dawn giggled which in turn forced Spike to hide a smile under cover of digging through his pockets for his lighter.

"Try the coat, blood-breath."

Xander waved off Spike's two-fingered salute lazily, then noticing Giles' wilted state, thought to ask, "Hey Giles, what happened to the air?"

"Just noticed, did you? Infernal thing broke this morning. I've been on the phone to the repair shop all day. If you can tear yourself away, I'd appreciate some help moving the more volatile spell ingredients to the cellar."

Xander peeled himself off the floor with a groan. "Yeah, yeah."

Just then the phone rang. It was Buffy.

"_Guys, I just got the strangest call from…_"

The bell above the shop door rang.

"_…Angel._"

The vamp in question, all six black-clad and broody feet of him, didn't bother with pleasantries. "Is Buffy here?"

"Unless she's hiding under the counter I seriously doubt it," Xander replied. "School," he clarified, as if speaking to a very slow child.

"Cordelia had a vision. I need to talk to her."

Xander suspected if he looked back, he'd find matching grimaces on Giles' and Spike's faces. Probably not unlike the one he suspected he wore himself. Sort of like he had a mouthful of pickled beets. Or, possibly, crap.

"Ugh. Can we _please_ not do this here? Its like a million degrees," Dawn pleaded.

"Is your air on at home?" Asked Xander.

Dawn twitched in a suggestion of a shrug. "Ask Buffy."

"Oh, yes." Giles turned back to the receiver in his hand. "We were wondering if your house was air-conditioned. I imagine, because if cooler tempers are to prevail then perhaps it would be best to assemble somewhere that isn't the median temperature of Death Valley. All right, I'll let them know. You'll call the others? Right then. Good bye." Giles hung up the phone and turned to Xander. Angel still stood under his blanket near the doorway, smoking stupidly.

Just then Anya returned from the cellar. "Giles I really think the salamander eyes have gone off. The jars are all brown. You know, this wouldn't have been a problem with…who the hell are you?" Anya suddenly registered the presence of others in the room. "Xander, what are you doing here? What's this vampire doing in my shop? Giles, what's going on?"

"Sire's come for a visit, luv, is all," Spike explained.

Xander provided a cursory introduction. "Anya, Angel. Angel, Anya."

"You're the vampire who can't have orgasms! No wonder Buffy looks so constipated when she hears your name. You're very handsome."

Dawn immediately began sobbing with laughter. Angel seemed unable to decide where to focus his glare and so glowered at his shoes.

"And on that note, we'll be going. Dawn, Spike, you're with us."

* * *

  
Buffy paced the living room floor, keeping herself between Riley and Angel at all times as he stood in the corner by the door and related Cordelia's vision. Spike stood by the fireplace, hovering protectively over Dawn's seat on the ottoman while Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara watched the volleys from the relative safety of the sofa. Giles sat in the armchair and made no attempt to look at Angel.

"So let me get this straight. Three Master vampires are on their way here to take over the Hellmouth," Riley asked, expression dubious.

"Not together. They'll fight for the territory when they get here," Angel clarified.

"And your solution is to take over control of the Hellmouth yourself?" Giles asked dryly.

"Can you do that?" Buffy asked.

"I thought Spike was the Master of Sunnydale," said Dawn.

All eyes turned to Spike.

"Technically," Angel conceded.

"Wait, wait, wait," Xander stood. "Technically?"

Angel looked visibly uncomfortable.

"_Technically_, unless their authority is formally challenged, a region belongs to the oldest Master vampire."

"Which would be Spike, since you left."

"Well, technically, yes, but…"

"So what's stopping Spike from fighting these Masters?" Asked Buffy.

Spike smirked at Angel. "Yeah, Peaches, what's stopping me?"

Angel glared back. "Besides the fact that no one really seemed to notice you were Master in the first place? How about even if you were Master, you'd still be vulnerable enough to tempt every vampire in a two thousand mile radius to challenge you twice a week."

Spike's jaw clenched. Angel's smug tone reminded Xander that the chief benefit of having his intelligence constantly insulted was the ability to be deliberately obtuse when it suited him.

"That is a problem. I guess Spike's going to have to make one hell of an impression on these guys."

"Wh—What?" Angel spluttered.

Giles' head shot up in surprise, then making a great show of thinking out loud, gave Buffy his seat and began to pace. "It may be in our best interest that Spike remains the titular head…"

Xander snorted.

"Oi! That's enough you…" Spike warned through narrowed eyes.

"Sorry your tit-headedness…" Xander grinned.

"Why you little…" Spike slipped into gameface.

"Guys!" Buffy shouted above the din. "So we're agreed that we need to present a bigger and badder big bad to the baddies," She summarized.

Xander looked at Spike shaking off his game face and fiddling with a bit of Dawn's hair. "Right. We can do that," he concluded.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh that's rich. What do you know about vamp politics, whelp?"

"It's a highly complex society built around a reverence for hair products and a diet high in iron," he deadpanned, earning a snort from Riley.

Angel was not amused. "This isn't a game, Xander."

"I'm not playing. Spike can fight other demons without any problem. We can handle this without you, deadboy."

"Fine. Then tell me the proper procedure for challenging a Master for his territory."

"I have no idea—"

Angel threw up his hands in the universal sign for 'I told you so'.

"—But I'm pretty sure I read something about the history of major vampire power shifts in this one lichen crusted book Giles had me sifting through last week."

"The compendium of St. Sebelius." Giles supplied.

"Yeah that. And besides—wasn't there something in the Watchers' diaries about that Master in between France and Germany that was getting the crap beat out of him every time they changed the border?"

Giles expression vacillated between pride and horror as he interjected. "Belial of Strasbourg."

"Yeah him. So you see, I think we've got our knowledge bases covered."

"I'm serious, Xander. You're out of your depth, here."

"It's not as though he'll be going it alone, Angel," Giles pointed out. He was ignored.

"I've been doing this for five years and I've never not been in over my head, yet the world keeps turning," Xander needled.

"You fetch donuts and get in the way!"

"Now see here, Angel," Giles began amidst a chorus of similar exclamations.

Xander saw red, and only the desire to not completely devolve into his father in front of Willow kept his fists at his side. "Got in your way the night you tried to off Buffy in the hospital, _didn't I_?" Xander spat through clenched teeth, very much enjoying the sight of Angel flinching under the attack.

"Listen to me, Xander." Angel continued, pompously. "You have no _idea_ what you're going up against. These vampires are smart and they are ruthless."

"So is Spike," he countered.

Angel scoffed. "Spike is a fart in the wind."

"That's fair actually," Spike interjected.

Xander looked dead into Angel's eyes. "Spike is more of a vampire with a chip in his head than you'll ever be."

Angel vamped out and snarled.

"Now Peaches…" Spike stepped forward, presumably to restrain Angel, if need be.

Xander ignored him. Angel had lost control and Xander scented blood in the water. "Your claim on this town ended when you left. _Spike_ is Master here now and _no_ one is going to take that from him without a fight."

Angel shifted his weight subtly. "How are you going to stop me, Harris?"

"Just a minute there, Angel," warned Spike.

Xander cocked his head, unaware how much he was scaring the girls with what was a pretty good approximation of his Hyena possession. "Is that a formal challenge?"

"Xander!" Spike shouted.

"If it is?"

Xander was too far-gone to see Spike blanch, hearing the promise of blood and pain in those three softly spoken words. If he had, he would have known that Angel had left the building.

"LIAM!" Spike bellowed.

"WHAT?" Angel growled.

Xander's head whipped around to see Spike fixing his Sire with a cool stare.

"Don't _start_ something you don't want to _finish_."

Angel shook off his demon's face and retreated to his corner. Rubbing his eyes wearily, he tried one last appeal to Spike. "If you care about these people at all, you won't put them in harm's way."

Spike gave that request the respect it was due. "You _can't_ be serious."

"They're not your minions, Spike!"

"_In harm's way_…are you daft? They live on a bloody Hellmouth!"

Suddenly, Dawn stood. "Spike's my friend! A—and Xander's smarter than you think."

Angel took stock of Dawn's rebellious stance and sighed in aggravation.

Spike smiled softly. "Thanks, Bit."

"It's true," Anya added. "Xander is very resourceful."

"Insightful," added Tara, rubbing her nose slightly in Spike's direction. "If Xander thinks Spike would be the best choice, he's prob—probably right."

Xander shrugged. "As much a fan of Spike as I'm _not_, I like him a hell of a lot more than Angelus."

"I can't say I disagree." Giles' expression was shuttered.

"Willow?" Angel asked.

She wrung her hands. "Look, I—I like you both, but you're busy in LA now. You don't have time to be Master of the Hellmouth and Champion of the Powers. And…Spike never killed my fish," Willow added apologetically.

Angel seethed and pointed at Spike. "And when he gets that _chip_ out?"

"Still not going to go after her bloody fish. Kind of pointless, really."

Angel bit back a snarl. "Buffy…please," he tried.

Buffy looked between Riley and Angel and settled for thumping her head on the coffee table. "I need to kill something," she evaded, grabbing a couple of stakes and heading for the door. "I'm a slayer. I kill vampires. I don't appoint them to power. Figure it out without me."

Xander crossed his arms and turned back to Angel with a satisfied smile as the door snicked shut behind her. "All in favor of retaining Spike as Master of Sunnydale?"

A chorus of 'Aye' went up from the assembled group.

"So that's seven in favor, one against and one abstaining. Sorry, looks like you made the trip down for nothing. I sure hope they're paying you mileage."

"Fine. _Fine_. You win Harris. But I'm staying. Spike's going to need a second—"

"Not bloody likely," Spike muttered.

Angel ignored him. "—and you're going to need someone on hand who knows protocol. The diaries only provide the barest suggestions of what's involved and none of you know the first thing about politics."

Xander rolled his eyes, suddenly tired of the pissing contest, which brought to mind the very unusual notion that he had been driving the discussion for the last hour or more. And what was even more unusual, _they had let him_. A short while later, after the gang dispersed, Xander was left to wonder what exactly he had gotten himself into.

Strangely enough, the thought that he had placed himself in charge of making Spike over into the Master of Sunnydale wasn't the terrifying thought he suspected it ought to be.

* * *

  
Xander dozed in a light, post-coital haze, Anya curled against his side, her fingernail tracing patterns on his chest.

"Are you sure you have to go in tomorrow?" She asked playfully.

Xander feigned horror. "Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins don't let the capitalists hear you say that—they'll revoke your membership."

She swatted him, but her heart wasn't in it. "It's just, we never have time to ourselves anymore."

"Well, that happens when you're gainfully employed in the fast paced world of corporate construction. You lose the down time between your part-time McJobs."

"Yes, and that's fine, but what about after?"

"What _about_ after?" Xander asked, already knowing where this conversation was going and hoping to prolong the inevitable as long as possible.

"Buffy. Every night, it's 'I have to help Buffy patrol this,' or 'We're researching do-hickeys tonight so orgasms are going to have to wait.' When do _we_ get to be a priority, Xander?"

"Anya, you knew what my life was like when we got together."

"That was two _years_ ago! You were in _high school_. It's all fine and well to hunt demons when you're stuck here anyway, but there's nothing keeping you here anymore."

"I can't just up and leave my family, Anya."

"They're a bunch of miserable drunks!"

"I wasn't talking about them," Xander said quietly. "Come on An, you know I can't leave. I'm needed here."

"_Needed_. Needed for what, Xander? You're just a man. A vulnerable, mortal man. Look, I love you. You're sweet and brave and great in bed but someone else can do this. Someone who actually knows how to fight and can take a punch."

Xander threw back the covers angrily and swung his legs off the bed. "I'm going out."

"Xander…"

"No, you know what, Anya? I can't take this right now. Not from you. I get enough of this from everyone else."

"Then _why_, Xander? What are you fighting for?"

Xander paused in the doorway without turning around. "I thought you believed in me," he started, then shook his head. "I'll be back later."

* * *

  
Xander tossed another ball in the air and lined up the swing. "Useless…" he muttered under his breath.

_Crack_. Ash met leather. Xander palmed another ball from the bucket beside him and threw it up in the air with a shout. _Crack_. The ball flew passed the knats swarming the spotlights into a pale, bare hand in left center field with an impressive smack.

"Nice catch, fangless."

Spike tossed the ball back lazily. "Don't strike me much as the athletic type, whelp."

Xander smiled ironically. "You know, I'm getting _really_ tired of people assuming I'm only good for fetching things and falling down."

"Oi, relax Harris, it was a fat joke."

Xander stared at him for a moment then relaxed and tossed the ball back at Spike, laughing in spite of himself. Spike's answering grin promised mayhem, but then, Xander thought that was a pretty incongruous expression for someone engaging in a simple game of catch and maybe he should consider the possibility that was just the way he smiled.

"You patrolling out here tonight?" Xander asked. _Toss_.

"I was on my way to Willy's. Thought I'd see what folks had heard about the situation."

Xander paused as he caught Spike's return. "Willy's is on the other side of town."

Spike scuffed his boot in the dirt. "Yeah, well, bloody Sire gets under the skin, don't he? Sort of hoping for a bit of violence tonight."

Xander had to agree but the way Spike wasn't meeting his eye told a different story. If Xander had to guess, he'd say Spike was worried.

"I used to play Little League, back when I was a kid. Played pick up games in the summer with Jesse. Willow used to shag balls for us." Xander smiled at the memory. "Played B-squad in my freshman year until I hurt my knee. I was benched most of the season." Xander tossed the ball back to Spike.

"What happened to Jesse?" Spike threw the ball back.

Xander grimaced and gripped the ball tight before throwing it back slightly harder. "Right after Buffy got here, Darla turned him to bait us."

"Shit."

Xander relished the smack of the ball hitting his empty palm. "He fell on my stake. First vamp I ever dusted."

Spike nearly missed Xander's throw as he processed that information.

"You know, your pitching isn't half bad for a Brit. Maybe we should start a team," Xander teased.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Vampires don't play baseball."

"Good thing I'm not a vamp then."

"Why are you doing this, Harris?"

Xander caught the ball and looked to see if there was a good answer for that questions somewhere between the laces. There wasn't.

"Was it Angel goading you?"

Xander sighed. "Yes. No. A little. I don't know. He's just such a _hypocrite_. He always said he didn't want any part of that business—said it was always Darla's thing—but even with the soul he wasn't living as rough as you. He may not have wanted to take on the responsibility of being Master of Sunnydale, but he had no problem living in a mansion and letting us fight his battles for him. Meanwhile, you're actually getting your hands dirty culling the herd and your free time is spent scavenging in the dump. _You're a Master vampire_ and you're squatting in a crypt with stolen electricity. It lacks dignity. Even I was able to get out of the basement eventually…"

Spike shrugged but it lacked his usual carelessness. "You live long enough, you get a little more patient. Sure I'm down now, but ten, fifteen, twenty years…"

"This isn't a run of bad luck at the craps tables, Spike. How are you going to get the chip out? Sure, you could get lucky and someone could turn a brain surgeon. Or maybe you'll be out scaring the food one night and don't see his ten friends with tire irons behind you."

Spike recoiled as if slapped. "I can take care of myself!" He seethed.

Xander snorted self-deprecatingly. "The sick part is, I actually wish you could."

Spike vamped out. "Don't you dare pity me, you pathetic wanker!" He howled. "This is as good as it gets for you, Harris—a nine to five and a bit of fluff to get your leg over. You think you've arrived because you're out of that basement? You never left, Harris, just look in the bloody mirror. Every year that passes you'll see a bit more of your da looking out at you until you either swallow a bullet or sink so far into a bottle that you don't care that you've thrown your piddling life away chasing after whatever crumbs your pals throw you."

Xander stood paralyzed as Spike pulled out his Zippo and lit up.

"But me, Harris," he said with a malicious smile, "I've got nothing but time."

Xander watched as he walked back up the hill to the street and tried not to feel like he'd just had his death sentence read, but the hollow ache in his gut stubbornly refused to go away.

He didn't sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Xander winced as the shop bell rang like a klaxon in his ears. "Hey guys, is Buffy around?"

"I think she's in the back. Xander, are you all right?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, you're looking pretty craptastic," Dawn contributed.

"I'm just excited about this meeting," he quipped, deliberately not meeting Anya's eye. She had been asleep when he came home and he'd opted to spend the night on the couch with a six-pack of cheap and domestic. They hadn't slept apart since Xander had signed the lease.

Buffy breezed through the training room door with a towel and water bottle followed by a sweat-soaked, red-faced and gasping Riley. "You know, everyone always goes on and on about how intense Ashtanga is, but I just find it really focusing," she stated with a mischievous smile.

"Grgl," he replied, intelligently.

"Hey Xan! Gotta say, I'm not loving the sleepless in Sunnydale look," Buffy greeted, taking pity on Riley and helping him to a bench.

"Where's deadboy?" He evaded.

Buffy fixed him with a look. "Taking patrol for me tonight."

"Really?"

"I think you really got to him, yesterday," Dawn whispered gleefully. "Spike bet me twenty dollars he'd have to rescue him."

"He can't be that out of practice, can he?"

"That's what I said! You don't think Spike set him up, do you?"

Just then Angel slammed through the door, cursing a blue streak and dripping viscous pink slime. "SPIKE!" He bellowed.

"He's not here. I believe he said something about sweeping Restview," said Giles without looking up from the book propped on the counter.

"I just _came_ from Restview. Spike wasn't there. But do you know who _was_ there? Four Fyarl demons who seemed to be under the impression that I owed them money!"

"Doesn't their mucus harden after a while? You should probably take care of that," Xander suggested helpfully.

"Come on," said Buffy, taking Angel's elbow before he killed Xander, "Riley's got a change of clothes in the back."

"Doesn't that bother you—him wearing your clothes?" Xander asked Riley, after they'd gone. Riley looked oddly serene.

"Guy's covered in demon slime and I just spent forty-five minutes watching Buffy do yoga. I think I still win this round."

Xander nodded sagely.

Angel cut a rather unimpressive figure in a Hawkeyes hooded sweatshirt and it was some time before he was able to convince everyone to sit down and stop laughing at him. "_Thank you_," he said as everyone finally gathered around the table. Gathering his dignity around him as best as he was able, he continued pacing in front of the cash-wrap.

"There are several key components to a formal challenge. The challengers announce themselves to the reigning Master, either themselves or their second, the Master sets the location the challenges are to take place, then the challenges begin, the oldest challenger going first and so on, one battle per day until either the challengers or the reigning Master are dust."

"So the position of second is primarily ceremonial?" Giles asked, intrigued.

"Yes and no. If a Master is incapacitated, the second fights on their behalf, but it isn't very common for a vampire to be injured severely enough not to fight without being dusted."

"What about weapons?" Buffy asked thoughtfully.

"Nothing mechanical. Everything else is allowed."

"Good," she stated.

Angel looked at her sharply. "You're not thinking…"

"If he won't accept you, I'm pretty much the only other option."

"Buffy, I don't think that's such a good idea," Riley said.

"Why not? I fight vampires. It's kind of my thing."

"You can't heal like a vampire. If you get a sword in the gut, it could kill you," Angel said.

"My guts, my decision."

"I think we're getting off topic," Giles interrupted, wearily. "What of the location?"

"Usually, it's the Master's residence."

"Somehow, I don't think Spike's crypt is going to cut it," said Buffy. "Options?"

"Oh, what about the old mansion, Angel?" Willow asked.

"I sold it when I moved to L.A."

Xander steeled himself to make his suggestion. "If Anya could make us a lot of money, very quickly…"

She perked up at that. "You bet your sweet ass I could! I've been learning about day trading, and…"

"I have complete faith in you," he interrupted, gently. She beamed him a thousand-watt smile.

"My company just bought up a bunch of houses in the old part of town to convert to rental properties. I'd like to make them an offer on one of them, and if they accept, I can restore it—"

Giles broke first. "Xander, that's a wonderful idea. That would give us the tactical advantage of keeping the contest on familiar ground."

"—I know it's a big job, but I really just need an extra pair of hands to frame the stairs and I figured that Dawn could help me with most of that and it's a lot of money but it's kind of a fixer-upper opportunity so—"

"_Xander_," Buffy stopped his babble. "It's a _wonderful_ idea."

Everyone smiled encouragingly except for Anya who seemed strangely subdued.

"Guys, what gives?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" Asked Giles.

"This whole supportive thing you're doing."

Buffy looked genuinely confused. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say, huh?"

"Come on, we all know I'm a colossal screw-up. I'm not a watcher, a slayer, a witch or a partridge in a pear tree. Why is everyone listening to me all of a sudden?"

"Xander! How can you say that?" Willow asked.

"We never _stopped_ listening, Xander," said Giles.

"You've always been idea guy, Xander," Buffy said. "Remember the rocket launcher?"

"Yeah, but that was just because I still had all those memories…"

"CPR?" Willow challenged.

"Well, sure, but…"

"I seem to recall detonating the school around the mayor was your idea," said Giles.

Xander paused. "Yeah, that was pretty awesome, wasn't it?" Xander had a sinking feeling that he had been very stupidly underestimating his friends. "So, the whole fray-adjacent thing…"

"Naturally we worry, Xander, but you've been an invaluable part of this group from the beginning," Giles explained. "I don't know why you insist on disparaging your intelligence so."

"Whelp's got a way of thinking around corners."

Xander's head whipped around. Spike stood in the doorway to the cellar, having come from the tunnels. As he watched, Spike removed a billfold from his coat and palmed Dawn a twenty.

"Hey, that's my wallet!" Angel protested. He was ignored.

Xander turned back to the group. "Guys, I don't know what to say. You all got so powerful so fast—and then with the college thing… I guess I just figured I'd pretty much become cannon fodder, which was cool, because at least I was helping."

"Oh, Xander, no," cried Willow.

"Xander it's precisely because you're so valuable that we try to keep you out of the line of fire, don't you understand? I must admit, I _am_ relieved to finally have a reason for your reticence to contribute this past year. I—I've been quite concerned." Giles polished his glasses.

Willow threw her arms around him followed by Buffy a moment later, cracking his ribs.

"Ow, ow, ow! Feeling the love, Buff."

"Sorry," she sniffed.

Over Willow's shoulder, Xander saw Anya looking dejectedly at the table. Behind her Spike caught his eye and cleared his throat. "Xander, a word?" He asked.

Spike was using his given name? _That_ piqued his curiosity. Reluctantly, he resolved to find out what was wrong with Anya later. "Sure, Spike," he answered gesturing toward the training room. "Guys, give us a sec?"

The others continued their discussion and Xander followed Spike into the back.

"What's up?"

Spike didn't meet his eye as he ran a hand over the pommel horse. "Look, Whelp, I was out of order last night, all right?"

"Spike, you don't have to apologize."

Spike looked at him in obvious confusion. "Wait…why? I mean, I'm not. Wait, are you _patronizing_ me?"

"What? No! I just mean…" Xander backpedaled.

"I don't need you sparing my bloody dignity!" Spike shouted.

"I'm not!" Xander insisted.

"Good!" Spike looked around, seeming suddenly unsure of his purpose in being there.

Xander sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. "You weren't wrong, what you said."

"Xander…" Spike began.

"No, don't, okay? _I know_. That's why I…shit, Spike, I just wanted to do something right, you know?"

"Which is why what I said last night was a load of bollocks," Spike admitted. "Your da never put anyone else first in his life. You're a right charitable bloke, an' I was brassed off because—"

"You're not my charity case, Spike."

Spike paused in his gesticulating. "Huh? I…well…of course m'not."

Xander smiled, conspiratorially. "This is what's best for the town. And it royally pisses off Angel."

Spike smirked at that. "And the enemy of my enemy is my friend, eh, Harris?"

Xander grinned. "Something like that."

Having reached a _détente_, Spike suddenly looked awkward.

Xander took pity on him. "You want to see the house?"

Spike nodded in relief. "Yeah, mate."

"Great. I'm parked in back. Just let me tell the others, and we'll go."

As they walked to the car, Xander was suddenly struck by the faith his friends and reluctant ally were placing in him. It made him feel kind of warm.

"Oi, Xander…"

"Yeah, Spike?"

"What house?"

* * *

  


The house was faded whitewash over brick, done in the Spanish mission style. There were two stories, with turreted front and back entryways and three-story towers on the north-east and south-west corners giving it a sort of Victorian character, though the house was built in 1915 and had quite a lot of art deco stained glass throughout. It had once been a jazz age masterpiece, but had stood in disrepair so long that the original woodwork was largely dried-out, warped and cracked, many of the original floor tiles were broken and the beautiful stained glass windows were grimy and dark. The roof leaked in places, the wiring was an arsonists dream and the less said about the plumbing, the better.

Xander had fallen in love at first sight.

"The gardens are kind of a mess, I know, but my buddy at work says his brother can landscape it for us at cost."

Spike looked doubtful.

Xander entered the realtors code into the box on the door handle and removed the key.

Which caught in the door and refused to turn.

"Here, let me give it a go," Spike offered, as Xander colored and stepped aside.

With the application of vampire elbow grease, the sticky lock finally turned and the door swung open with a comically gothic groan. Xander steeled himself for a jibe that never came.

Spike stood in the foyer with an unfathomable look on his face. "Dru an' me stayed in a place like this once. Had parties lasted weeks, people comin' an' goin' at all hours. Everyone drunk an' dancing. Dru ate ten girls one night an' no one noticed. Got right tipsy on their blood, she did."

"Good times?" Xander ventured.

Spike looked at him intently. Xander felt like he was being willed to understand. "The best."

Xander nodded, not sure if he understood completely, but something told him this was about more than bloodlust.

"Those years before the crash were some of the best we had. Before the depression made folk skittish, before that damned U-boat—"

"U-boat?"

"—Ask the poof to tell you about it sometime. We had some times, Dru an' me. Until Prague, anyway." Spike trailed off and Xander didn't push. He showed him what he could of the living and dining areas, the half bath and the kitchen.

Opening a door off the main hall, he explained, "The stairs are all rotted so I won't take you down, but I'm thinking we'll be able to outfit the cellar for the fight…" Xander trailed off.

Spike nodded. "If they're putting out a formal challenge it's my right to set the whereabouts of the contest."

"Why do I hear a 'but' in there?"

Spike sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know these other vamps from Adam. They might play by the rules, but I reckon it'd be smarter to try an' off me before it comes to that."

Xander privately agreed.

* * *

  
"Xander, oh good, you're back," Giles began, shifting books around the shop counter. Willow sat in the loft surrounded by piles of spell books that Dawn was surreptitiously reshelving.

"How was the house? Was it cool?" Dawn asked Spike as he perched on the ladder. Xander took his usual seat at the table and began casually flipping through the book in front of him.

"Wasn't half bad. What'd you lot find out?"

"Angel and Buffy got the names of the other Masters down at Willie's and we've been researching them here, and guess what? One of them is a kid!"

"Dawn," Giles warned.

"Okay well he's not _actually_ a kid, but he was turned when he was like, twelve or something. Creepy huh?"

Spike turned to Giles with a fairly serious look on his face. "This wouldn't be Kitchener's bastard, we're talking about, would it?"

Giles nodded wearily. "One and the same, I'm afraid. It seems the political unrest in the Sudan has made vampirism extremely difficult in Khartoum."

Spike snorted. "I'd be surprised if there's anyone left to eat."

"What kind of a threat is this kid?" Xander asked.

"This 'kid', as you call him, has ruled an ancient East African city for the past 91 years. You would do well not to underestimate him."

"Any idea who his second will be?" Spike asked.

"There are several possibilities. He has several older childer, though he favors a Fulani vampiress who has apparently filled a kind of maternal capacity for some time."

"Sounds practical. Hard to move about independent-like when you look like your balls haven't dropped."

Giles rolled his eyes and continued. "Your other opponents are a bit of a mystery. According to what Angel was able to find out, the Mistress of San Paulo has recently pulled up stakes and seemed to be heading this direction."

"And who's this bint when she's at home?"

Giles steeled himself in a way Xander had learned to mean whatever he was about to say was extremely disturbing. "Willow?" He called.

Willow's head poked up from the loft. "Yes, Giles?"

Giles looked at Dawn and something unspoken passed between them. Dawn nodded and began to pack her book bag.

"Willow, would you mind taking Dawn home?"

"Sure thing, just let me mark my place and I'll be right down."

"Thank you."

Spike's brow furrowed. Catching Giles' eye he inclined his head toward Dawn.

Giles shook his head and tipped his head in Willow's direction.

Both their eyebrows rose.

When both girls had finally left, Giles removed the kettle from the hotplate and poured tea for all of them, gesturing for them to sit down.

"Jesus, Giles, you're scaring me. Who is this chick?" Xander asked.

Giles cleared his throat and began. "She's a Nazi ex-patriot and the former protégé of Joseph Mengele."

"Jesus."

"Oh, holy fuck," Xander whimpered.

"Indeed."

They sat there in silence, holding their teacups without drinking.

"Who's her second," Spike asked soberly.

"She doesn't have any childer at the moment. Our best guess is a minion of some sort."

"At the moment?" Xander asked and immediately regretted it.

"It doesn't seem her enthusiasm for science has lessened any over the years."

Xander felt the bile rise in his throat. "I'm gonna be sick," he managed to get out before bolting for the washroom. As he heaved the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the old nightmares came back to him in merciless Technicolor. Willow with her hair shorn, standing in a gas chamber. Willow rail thin, being burned alive. Willow crying, reaching for him to save her. He hadn't realized he'd been crying until he heard the knock on the door.

"Xander, are you all right?"

He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped his face. "M'fine. Just a second," he called out.

_"Jessica, where's the boy been all damn day?"_

"Sheila Rosenberg invited him to lunch, Tony, I told you yesterday."

"I thought I said I didn't want him hanging around that little Jew girl! Xander get out here! Dammit Jessica, those kike bastards shut down the plant, and now you're gonna let them brainwash our son? Come here, boy, World At War_ is on, I wanna show you something…"_

Xander retched until his ribs ached.

* * *

  
Giles looked at him like he expected him to shatter into a million pieces when he finally emerged.

He held up his hand. "I'm fine," he said, hoarsely. "What do we know about the other Master?"

Neither Giles nor Spike looked inclined to believe that he was fine, but to their credit they pressed on ahead. "This is the strange part, you see," Giles began. "The other Masters are fairly young, powerful enough to pose a challenge and both have motivation to claim the Hellmouth. The other is Henri De Sauveterre."

"_What_?" Spike asked, visibly shocked.

"Who's Henri De—"

"The Master of New Orleans," Spike answered, briskly. "Are you sure, Watcher?"

"As near as I can be. He and his consort left New Orleans yesterday and left instructions to their minions to contact them here."

"Bugger all…" Spike moaned, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't understand," Xander said.

"It's like this, yeah? Henri's got a couple years on the poof, but he's spent nearly all of them as Master of New Orleans. He's a fucking institution there and a bloody scary son-of-a-bitch. I don't know what he's playing at, but if he's serious, I might as well stake myself now."

"I tend to doubt he has any real interest in the Hellmouth. It might be that he's simply interested in you. It _is_ fairly unusual for a Master vampire to come into power so late."

Spike seemed to consider this, but hardly looked reassured.

Xander found he couldn't stop shaking. "Giles, I need to burn off some energy. Mind if I go a few rounds with the heavy bag?"

"Hmm, what? Oh, yes, of course. Help yourself."

* * *

  
Xander pummeled the bag with respectable form, trying like hell to ignore the worried tone of Spike's voice as he argued with Giles in the front room. Twenty or thirty minutes in, Xander couldn't be sure, the adrenaline spike seemed to wear off. He pulled off his shirt and began to mop his face. Remembering that he still needed to have that talk with Anya, he had a sudden overwhelming desire to avoid his apartment.

Bench press it was. Xander listened and couldn't hear anything from the front. Giles must have gone back to researching. "Spike, mind giving me a hand in back?" Xander called, sliding two fifty-pound weights onto the bar. Without waiting he lowered himself onto the bench and began a set of ten reps.

"You're gonna tear something going at it like that. That's too much weight. You gotta warm up a little first."

"That's why you're spotting me."

"How do ya know I wouldn't just leave you there?"

Xander felt something rip in his shoulder. "I'm about to find out. Spike!"

Spike ran over and pulled the bar off of him with little effort. "Oi, I told you that was too much weight too fast, git."

"Yeah, yeah, just help me out here."

Spike took a hold of Xander's arm and helped him sit up, then handed him a towel, which he took gratefully. "Don't know why you don't just go to a gym. Have someone show you how to do this properly since you listen to fuck all I say."

Xander reached for the water bottle by the bench and found he couldn't extend his arm far enough to reach. Spike huffed and handed it to him.

"Not a fan of ogling in the locker room. Thanks."

"How do you know I'm not ogling you?"

Xander spit water all over the weight bench. Spike leered. Xander gave him a look that clearly spelled doubt as he wiped down the equipment.

Spike seemed offended. "I'm a vampire, whelp. For all you know my sexual preference is yes."

Xander rolled his eyes then added, entirely too casually, "You know, Angel is a surprisingly chatty drunk."

Spike was up like a shot, finger jabbing sharply in his chest. "WHAT? That pouf better not av'…I'll…it was ONE BLOODY TIME and for your information…"

Xander put up his hands and backed away, laughing. "Relax Cassanever, I was joking. You are a paragon of all that is manly and heterosexual."

"You're damn straight."

It was Xander's turn to leer. "You sure about that?" he said.

Xander couldn't help laughing at Spike's swiftly retreating back. Suddenly feeling much more optimistic, Xander retrieved his shirt and went home.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, despite twenty years of soot and grime, the noonday sun still beat down mercilessly through the windows of the house, illuminating the dust motes that currently held dominion and predicating the need for the high fashion masks adorning the faces of Xander and his young charges.

Holding out a broom and mop, he addressed them.

"These are your weapons. Your foe is fearless, but do not be intimidated. You have the strength to overcome. Go now."

Janice and Melinda looked at him with the special brand of disdain practiced only by teenage girls.

"Please?" He wheedled.

Dawn looked up from the pile of broken tiles she was sweeping into a garbage bag. "Guys, we need the floors done before the sander gets delivered at four thirty," she said.

The girls looked balefully at Xander then proceeded up the stairs.

"Thank you!" he called after them. Just then, Spike's poker buddy Clem entered, carrying a pallet of tiles. Xander had been hesitant to accept his help at first, but Spike swore he was harmless and Dawn seemed to like him.

"Oh, thank God!" Xander exclaimed, rushing over to help divest the loose-skinned demon of his burden. Taking the purchase order he opened the first bundle and his heart sank. "These aren't the right tiles! Son of a—"

Dawn grabbed the purchase order from his hand and looked it over, then looked at the tiles. "At least they're a pretty shade of green. It could be worse."

"Hey, maybe you could arrange them into a decorative mosaic," Clem suggested.

Xander all but snarled at him. "No! I _paid_ for vintage tile. The restoration group _promised_ me the original tiles! I _want_ my goddamn hand-painted, $35 a unit tiles!"

Dawn had slipped Xander's cell phone from his pocket and was already dialing the supplier. "Clem, would you go pick up the pizza, please?" she asked. Clem rushed off with a look of gratitude. "Hello? Yeah, I'm calling about purchase order 77654? Yeah, I'll hold."

Xander ripped off his mask and stomped angrily to the cellar door, restraining the impulse to put his fist through the wall. A work light hung from a cord near the door, casting light into the cavernous space. A ladder stood below the doorway in between the two-by-fours framing what would hopefully soon be the dry-rot free stairs. A pallet of tatami mats waited patiently to be installed beside a pile of lumber. Xander half listened to Dawn belittling the warehouse manager as he once again ran down his mental to-do list.

The second floor hardwood needed to be sanded and waxed. Fortunately the inlay was in fairly good shape and stain was unnecessary, because it had already been two days and there was no telling how much time he had left before the Masters would hit town. According to Angel, inability to travel by air had accustomed most vamps to a fairly leisurely mode of transport which absurdly made Xander think of the Amish.

Unfortunately, not even the mental image of Angel with a long beard driving a buggy could lift his spirits.

When he'd shown Spike the cracks in the wood paneling, he'd asked Xander to recondition the wood as best as he could, cracks be damned. Xander was surprised how pleased he was to hear him say that, and the two men shared a moment of open admiration for the carvings along the molding and chair rails. Now however, he wondered if there was enough Minwax in the world for this job.

On the plus side, the plumbers and electricians had worked through the night the last two nights to do a copper refit and ensure the whole thing wasn't going to go up in flames the first time someone flipped a light switch. Bobby's brother Julio had done a hell of a job on the landscaping, even going so far as to design a dream garden for period authenticity. Xander kind of looked forward to seeing Spike's reaction to the night blooming foliage in all it's glory the first time he stepped out for a smoke.

Clem had overseen the delivery of the appliances that afternoon and would oversee installation of the bathroom fixtures when they arrived later in the evening. Both baths and the kitchen had been in fairly good shape. The exposed brick was fairly low maintenance, and with the exception of a few small cracks, the marble tiles had been in remarkably good condition and not worth replacing.

Which left the stairs, the mats, the weapons brackets, the tile and the furniture, which Xander was deliberately avoiding until the last minute because, dammit, he knew where his strengths were, and interior design wasn't one of them. Oh sure, it didn't take a genius to know that a hide-a-bed and barcalounger weren't going to pass muster in a house like this, but he didn't have the first clue what would work or what to call the vague ideas he had from watching old movies or even what Spike liked besides Early American Mausoleum and it occurred to Xander this was a hell of a lot of effort toward getting Spike to feel comfortable somewhere he wasn't going to be staying very long.

Too bad the demolition was done. He'd have really liked to hit something just then.

Dawn tugged on his sleeve and handed his phone back to him. "They found our order and it'll be here in a couple hours."

Xander released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Good. Hey Dawnie, what kind of furniture should I order?"

"Ooh! I saw this red leather couch at the mall the other day Spike would _love_!"

Xander thought about it. "Well he does like leather and he's got a red shirt," Xander reasoned. "It's just, I dunno, I was thinking something a little more…"

"Boring?"

"Traditional."

"Well, you could get a bunch of antiques. Melinda's mom's fiancé owns an antique shop."

Just then, Clem arrived back with the pizza and all thoughts of antiques and leather sofas fell to the wayside in the face of sustenance.

As they ate their pizza, Xander fiddled with an old radio they'd found in the cellar until he found the Dodgers game and it wasn't long before Vin Scully's voice was smoothing down the rough edges of his day. Which gave him a thought. Xander loved baseball. Playing it, listening to it, going to games. He loved what it represented—a simpler time in his life, when his world revolved around Willow and Jesse and theirs revolved around him. Before he knew about demons and magic, he could see the worship in Willow's eyes and it made him feel good. Important, even. Xander thought that's how Spike must have felt in his heyday with Dru.

"Hey, Melinda, Dawn tells me your mom's fiancé has an antique shop," he prompted.

Melinda looked up from her pizza, unimpressed. "Yeah," she said.

"Um, do you know if he has stuff from, like, the twenties?"

"I don't know." Xander was truly impressed by how much disapproval she could fit into three seemingly innocuous words.

Dawn perked up, however. "You mean, like art deco stuff?" she asked.

"Is that like, _The Rocketeer_?"

"Good flick," Clem interjected.

Dawn nodded and swallowed a mouthful of pizza. "We were learning about it in art class last year. Actually, some of the design examples we looked at would be kind of cool in here."

Janice whispered something into Dawn's ear. "Ooh that's a good idea!" Dawn squealed. "You could see if any of the movie studios are getting rid of set pieces from back then."

Xander's eyes widened. "That's…actually a really good idea."

This was officially too much effort for a temporary arrangement, Xander thought. He'd have to see about renting Spike the house when all this was over.

* * *

  
It was close to two in the morning when Xander made it back to his apartment. He was covered in a thin veneer of grout, sawdust and caulk, but the lion's share of the work was done and he couldn't help smiling the smile of an accomplished handyman.

It didn't last very long. Anya sat on the sofa with two suitcases on the floor beside her.

"Anya, what's going on?"

"I'm leaving, Xander."

Xander tried to form a question but the words refused to come.

"You don't love me, Xander."

"Yes I do," he protested feebly, sure his heart had lodged in his throat, which would explain why he felt like he was choking.

"Not enough. I'm sorry, but I need more than this. I could understand you wanting to impress your friends when they were ignoring you, but now you've got their attention and I never see you any more. If you had asked, I could have made us the money for a down payment on a house of our own, but you don't invest in us at all. You don't love me."

As Xander watched helplessly, damned by words he wanted fervently to deny but couldn't quite manage to do so, she left.

* * *

  
"I don't have all the answers," Xander slurred. "Do you? Cause I sure don't." Xander swirled the beer coaster through the condensation on the bar as he poured his heart out to all who'd listen. "I mean, isn't it enough that I…hic…help protect the people of this town from the forces of…hic…evil? What about my needs, Anya! I have needs too!" Xander gesticulated wildly, lost his balance and slid off the bar stool into the waiting arms of a very confused vampire.

"Sorry," he whispered, patting his shoulder.

"Um, no problem," the vamp replied. "Hey aren't you the slayer's friend?"

Xander nodded and began to tear up. "Buffy's my bud—buddy. To the Buffster!" he toasted, sloshing whiskey all over the floor. Those nearest shook their heads and humored the idiot human, joining in his toast.

In the first moments following Anya's departure, Xander couldn't decide what he wanted to do more, get raving drunk or pick a fight down at Willy's. There were few things wrong in his life that he couldn't directly or indirectly attribute to demons and the fighting thereof. He hadn't quite worked out how they were to blame for his less than stellar turn as Anya's paramour, but he was certain that, given time, he would find the elusive connection.

Spike! Spike was a demon! If he hadn't been spending all his time trying to keep him in charge of the town, Anya wouldn't have broken up with him!

Of course, once Xander decided Spike was to blame, he'd lost the will to fight. Xander was the idiot who decided to play minion to the bleached moron, which only served to make him feel more pathetic, and hey, Willy's was a bar after all.

"Willy, you're a good guy, you know that? I hope you know that kicking your ass isn't anything personal."

Willy nodded, the soul of understanding. "Another shot, Harris?"

Before he could answer in the affirmative, someone was beside him and sending the bottle away. "I think he's had enough."

"Hey," he protested weakly and turned a bleary eye on…

"Spike!"

Spike reeled back, apparently offended by the proof of his breath. "Christ, Harris, you've gone and fermented yourself."

Xander tried to remember something about Spike but the thought escaped him. "Anya left."

Xander was too drunk to notice the pained look on Spike's face. He did see him slap a couple hundred dollars on the bar, however.

"Willy, mate, give us the bottle, yeah? An' a couple pints of the house red as well."

"Hey!" Xander exclaimed. "This is your fault!"

Spike raised an eyebrow in question. "An' how is that exactly?"

Xander could have sworn there was a reason a moment ago.

Spike snorted and slipped under Xander's arm, hoisting him to his feet. "Come on, Harris, let's get you home before your entertainment value wears off and one of this lot decides to eat you."

* * *

  
When, after much cursing, a fair amount of vomit, and still more cursing, they reached the apartment, Spike maneuvered Xander onto his bed, helped him remove his shoes and propped a wastebasket nearby for easy access in the night. Xander watched all this with minimal participation and exhausted, nauseated and slightly melancholy detachment. As Spike turned to leave, Xander heard himself ask, "W—what's it like not being able to love?"

"If I ever find out, I'll let you know," Spike retorted, smartly.

"But, demons can't love—they can feel lust and obsession, but…"

"Not the kind of love that sends you running to your mortal enemy to save your girl?"

"Yeah," Xander said without thinking. "Oh."

"Yeah. _Oh_," Spike responded with obvious annoyance.

Xander cringed inwardly, cursing whatever power allowed drunks the ability to speak without use of the parts of their brains responsible for higher reasoning or basic logic. Tact would have been a plus, too.

Then the lines of irritation around Spike's mouth smoothed out, he sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed, seeming to decide something. "I've never met another vamp that could love," he admitted. "Got a theory about that," he added, gruffly.

Xander nodded cautiously, waiting for him to continue.

"I was a poet before I was turned, you know that?"

Xander shook his head, suddenly intrigued.

"A bloody awful one." Spike smirked self-deprecatingly. "Spent most of my life thinking about love, dreaming 'bout it, writing 'bout it—figure maybe enough of the human revolved around it, the demon wouldn't have had anything to cling to without it," he finished softly, and then stood with a snort of disgust. Anger and frustration lay coiled in the lines of his body like a tightly wound spring. "Bloody ironic is what it is—me chasing after something a vamp isn't capable of and no right thinking human'd consider." Spike rolled his eyes. "Pathetic."

Xander was beginning to suspect he understood Spike's reticence to leave Sunnydale and a good deal more, besides. "Sounds lonely," he hazarded, expecting Spike's usual bluster and denials. Maybe Spike figured he wouldn't remember anything in the morning, but Xander was surprised when Spike's only reaction was a sad little smile that on Willow would have had him throwing his arms around her and promising her the world. On Spike, Xander found the impulse wasn't entirely absent. Funny, he didn't think he was _that_ drunk.

"Yeah, well, s'always hope—only thing makes immortality bearable. Hope that no matter how unlikely, someone's going to turn another poor sod like me."

"You could _try_ dating a human," Xander suggested, grasping for something to make that defeated expression go away.

Spike snorted. "Do I look like the pouf to you? I'm love's bitch, not a bloody masochist."

He felt perversely offended that he would dismiss the idea out of hand. "Hey, I dated Anya. And dating Cordelia has to rank pretty close to an inter-species relationship," he retorted.

"Yeah, an' look how well that turned out."

"Touché," Xander conceded, yawning deeply.

Their moment of commiseration over, Spike left Xander to sleep the sleep of the heavily soused. The next morning Xander woke to find a note on his nightstand next to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

 

_Wanker,_

Warn me before you decide to go on a bender again so I can make plans to be somewhere else.

You'll be receiving the dry-cleaning bill for my coat.

 

Spike

P.S. I set the coffee pot.

You're welcome, git.

 

Xander groaned, chugged back the water and a couple aspirin and hoped like hell getting the house finished today would be penance enough for blowing chunks on The Coat. There were two messages from Dawn on his phone. Fortifying himself with coffee, he dialed his voicemail and received the dressing down of his life for leaving her to meet the first delivery truck of the morning on her own.

The second message was more of the same but higher pitched.

* * *

  
Come dusk, Xander trod carefully around the headstones with two coffees, a quart of AB negative and a bag of crullers between his teeth. "Oben uk angless!" He shouted, kicking the crypt door in lieu of knocking.

The door swung open slowly, Spike rubbing his face and squinting, his shirtless state indicating he'd likely just woken up. His voice was gravelly with sleep. "What's all this then?" he asked, grabbing the shirt draped over the back of the easy chair and slipping it on.

Xander set the coffees and blood down on the sarcophagus and removed his pastry gag. "Breakfast."

"I can see that, moron. What's the occasion? I'm still sending you that bill…"

"I just wanted to say thanks for not letting me get drained or drowned in a puddle of my own vomit last night."

Spike waved off his thanks and took a sip of the coffee.

"Anyway, I thought you might be interested to know the house is finished."

Spike was suddenly very still. "It's done?"

Spike reverently took the keys Xander handed him.

"The furniture was delivered this morning. We can move you in whenever you're ready."

Spike practically bounced with excitement, his previous irritation forgotten. "Right then, no point in hanging around this dump. Let's get on with it, yeah?"

* * *

  
Spike stood still and silent in the foyer of the house. Xander scuffed his feet on the floor, wondering suddenly if he'd made a mistake.

Without a word, Spike walked into the dining room and took in the marble topped buffet before moving into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and Xander heard a whoop when Spike found it stocked. A moment later he poked his head out with a grin. "You forgot the Weetabix."

Xander smirked. "Second cupboard from the left."

Spike bounced once and ran back to check before moving on to explore the parlor, fingering the volumes on the bookshelf with suspicion. "You didn't pick these," he said, finger tapping the spine of _Kubla Khan_.

"Um, I may have told Willow to pick out some poetry, that's all though, I swear!"

Spike smirked. "Relax, whelp. Just surprised, is all. I like Coleridge."

Spike noted the half bath in passing, before moving upstairs to the bedrooms.

The four-poster bed shared the similarly spare, art deco lines of the rest of the furnishings, but was stained a dark mahogany. Dawn had insisted on the raw silk duvet because it was red and also probably because it was four hundred dollars and she enjoyed making Xander swallow his own tongue at the cash register. The shams matched.

Xander tried not to cringe when Spike took a running leap onto the bed.

The bathroom was admittedly luxurious, but he'd been able to get the sunken marble tub at cost. The duel showerheads for the walk-in however, had been a mutually agreed upon necessity. The next time he was covered in demon ichor, he was coming straight here.

Spike grinned at Xander when he saw the tub. "Now _that_ I could get used to being chained up in."

As the tour drew to a close, Xander led Spike out the back door. As promised, the garden was in full bloom, the moonflowers and jasmine giving up their scent amidst paths set with iron trellises and gargoyles adorned with glossy vines. Spike lit up a cigarette as he looked out over the porch railing onto the moon-drenched garden. Xander came up beside him and the two men stood there, saying nothing, watching the wind blow through the bay tree and toss the branches of the willow.

"S'nice," Spike commented at last. Xander smiled in satisfaction. "Seems like you put a bit of work in, makin' it look like some place I'd stay."

"May have," Xander admitted. "How'd I do?"

Spike sighed. "S'gonna be hard to go back to the crypt after, I'll give you that."

Xander cleared his throat. "About that, I was kinda thinking about keeping it and renting it to you."

Spike gave him a dubious look.

"Cheap," Xander qualified, running the numbers in his head. "I put down close to fifty percent on the place when I bought it, my rent's cheap enough, I shouldn't need more than a grand a month to keep up on the payments."

"A grand a month an' this is mine? For good an' all?" Spike asked with undisguised glee.

"Yeah, man, just don't throw any parties the cops'll want to bust up or break anything I can't fix."

Spike clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "Thanks, mate. Gonna be nice, livin' in a proper house again."

And why did _that_ make Xander feel guilty? Was _he_ this vampire's keeper?

When Spike finished his cigarette, Xander cleared his throat and nodded toward an urn next to the back door set aside for butt disposal.

Spike rolled his eyes, but complied. Before Xander could leave Spike to break in the house on his own, however, the doorbell rang.

"You expectin' company?" Spike asked him.

Xander shook his head in the negative, taking a stake from the umbrella stand next to the door.

On the front stoop stood a man. Both his hands rested on the ornate head of a cane, the brim of his hat obscuring his face.

As the door opened, his head rose slowly and Xander saw sloe eyes sparkling with muted mirth.

"_Laissez le bon temps rouler_…"


	4. Chapter 4

"Xander, get back inside."

Xander watched as Spike tilted his head slightly to the left and back. _Huh_, Xander thought. _That's what the hyena used to do when_…

"WHAT? No!" He grabbed Spike's head and forced it upright.

"Bloody hell, do as I say, whelp!" Spike shouted, shoving Xander behind him and exposing his throat once more.

"I'm not going to just leave you to—would you stop that!" Xander had hold of Spike's head and was struggling to keep Spike from prying his grip loose.

"I bloody well will not! Let go of my head!" With a mighty shove, Xander flew backwards into the shrubs. He scrambled to his feet and watched as Spike once more resumed the submissive posture.

"Oh _hell_ no!" he cried, running up the front steps to stand between Spike and the Master.

Who was laughing.

As Spike shoved Xander behind him, the Master's soft chuckle turned into an outright guffaw. His voice, when he spoke, was barely raised above a whisper and suggested bourbon and several lifetimes spent in warm, smoky rooms.

"You are William. But who is your servant? Tell me in whom you inspire such loyalty."

Xander wanted to respond that he was nobody's servant, but the elbow in his diaphragm seemed to indicate otherwise.

"Master Henri De Sauveterre, Alexander Harris," Spike introduced.

"Nice to meet you," Xander responded, no longer forcibly mute. "Spike, can I talk to you for a second?"

"We must talk of many things and there's little time before the others will arrive. Would your servant show us inside?" Henri prompted.

"Yes, of course. Xander, would you kindly invite Master Henri inside and show him to the parlor?"

"ARE YOU INSANE?"

"Xander…"

"No! I did not get dumped by Anya to spend a week haggling with teamsters for a _pile of dust_!"

"Young man, I mean your Master no harm. You have naught to fear from me."

Xander couldn't believe what he was hearing. With one last look at Spike he threw up his hands. "Fine. FINE. Come on in! The parlor is through the doors to your left. Can I get you anything to eat? We're fresh out of virgins but I've got some O positive in the kitchen."

Spike looked at Xander like he'd grown another head. "No, _thank you_, Xander, that will be all," Spike managed through tightly clenched teeth.

"Super. Well if that's everything, I'll just be upstairs huddled in a dark corner with a crossbow, loaded for bear and waiting for your scream."

As Xander ascended the staircase he heard Henri say, "Your servant seemed a little hysterical."

Spike sighed. "No, he's always like that."

* * *

  


Xander slammed the door of the empty second bedroom and slid down the wall to sit on the floor by the vent. Spike might not have wanted him in the room, but he'd be able to hear what they said just the same.

"So am I to understand this is merely a social call?" Spike asked. Xander noticed his accent changed slightly when he spoke to the Master.

"As you say. You and I," the Master began, "are the same. We were made different. You love, William. I love too. It makes us strong. Stronger than the others of our kind. You will have your victory here, and when you do, you will have an ally in the Master of New Orleans, if you wish it."

"I'm listening."

The master's voice was quiet but Xander could make out the slow, heavily accented words.

"As a slave, I had a wife. Children. My Sire bled us all, but they were not turned. Their deaths taught me pain. What it is to truly feel it. How to cause it. But even in death, I never lost my love for Marie or the little ones. Many years later, when I saw my beautiful girl, I knew what I felt was more than a memory. I took the city for love of my consort. And Manon is the reason I hold it still. For whom do you claim Sunnydale, William? For whom will you keep it?"

Spike's response was equally soft. "For the Slayer. For Buffy."

_WHAT?_ Thought Xander. _Spike likes Buffy? Spike LIKES Buffy? Then again, _he thought,_ that does explain the piles of cigarette butts by her house. Jeez, what is it with these stalker vamps. What happened to 'not a bloody masochist'?_

"She is quite a woman, this Buffy. I hear many things about her in my city."

"Seeing her is like watching the sunrise. Burns in you. She fights like no slayer ever."

Xander restrained the urge to pout. _And what the hell is that about anyway? What, I'm jealous now because Spike thinks she's a pretty girl who kicks major ass? That's just factual, stupid, and it's not like you want her that way anymore._

"You wish to call her as second?"

Xander's heart skipped a beat and he swallowed heavily. _I'm not jealous of Buffy. I'm NOT._

"If she'll have me. Probably end up with my grandsire, though."

Xander thought back to Angel and Buffy's argument in the Magic Box and suddenly the thought of Buffy backing Spike up against the Masters was almost too disappointing to deal with. And the _really_ stupid thing about it was all he could think was how much Buffy would make it about her and wouldn't have Spike's back at all and wasn't it insane how much _that_ worried him?

"Angelus is here? And he allowed you to fight?"

Xander snorted.

"Not exactly. There was a bit of a dust up between him and Buffy's mates."

"Explain. I have heard this slayer does not work alone, but I would not expect Angelus to be so easily swayed."

Spike laughed a little. "Wasn't nothing easy about it. Harris upstairs came about this close to getting his throat torn out. Got a brass pair on him, he does. Only person I ever knew, vamp or human, to take on Angelus and live to tell the tale."

Xander's unconscious grin strained the muscles of his face as he struggled to assimilate this information.

"That is impressive. I can see why you would desire him in your service."

"Yeah, he's a brave one all right. Dumber than a post, but a good sort."

"Hey!" Xander protested, forgetting himself. Clapping his hand over his mouth he waited to see if they'd heard. The answering silence was damning.

"Xander," Spike called.

"Um, yeah?" he answered, grimacing.

"Come down here."

Xander sighed heavily. "Be right down."

Spike wore a smirk to shame the devil when Xander walked in. Henri smiled pleasantly enough. Xander had a feeling his eavesdropping wasn't a huge surprise, but neither vamp looked like they were expecting an apology, which just served to make him feel like an even bigger boob.

"Gason, William tells me you have built this beautiful house for your Master," Henri praised him.

Xander's smile was tight. "Thank you, but I didn't build it, really, just fixed it up a little, is all."

"He is modest, William."

"That he is," Spike answered conversationally, pouring two fingers into three glasses from something caramel colored in a decanter on the drinks cabinet and handing them around. "You know he did all this in a week? I made one remark about Dru an' I in Chicago back in '27 an' he does the whole place up like something out of Fitzgerald," Spike crowed with a knowing smile in his direction.

Spike was laughing at him and Xander thought he should just go out and get himself a goddamned bra because _this really shouldn't be getting to him like this._

Xander took a bracing sip of whiskey while thinking of what his father would have said on the subject and would have missed the rest of the conversation had Henri not asked about his training.

"Oh, um, I don't really have any. I work construction for J&amp;S. Carpentry mostly," he answered, distractedly, staring into his glass and praying for a sudden aneurism.

Henri stared at Spike.

"He's the only one of 'em doesn't have an education, but he's got more brains then all of them put together," he said seriously.

Xander looked up into Spike's guileless face. If it was a lie, it was an awfully good one. "Thanks," he said, still suspicious but hating himself for how much he wanted it to be true.

After a brief tour of the house during which Henri nodded thoughtfully and praised Xander's craftsmanship, receiving answering murmurs of agreement from Spike that Xander still couldn't quite bring himself to believe were completely sincere, Spike saw Henri out with an open invitation.

"The other's will be here in two days and you have no minions. Are you certain you would not like me to send someone to help you?"

"Thank you, Henri, but I think we'll be all right."

"If you are sure. _Bon chance_, William."

"Thanks, I'll need it if Buffy doesn't fall in."

Xander thought he caught Henri appraising him a moment before he said, "Maybe that would be better. I think maybe you have a stronger human here."

Xander was mortified. _Oh God he knows. He knows and he's _pitying _me._

"You might not be far wrong," Spike said, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Xander and nudging him gently with his elbow.

_The hell is he playing at?_ Xander thought.

"_Bon nuit_, Henri."

"_Bon nuit_, William."

The door latching shut echoed through the front hall, underlining the sudden heaviness in the air between them. Perhaps Xander wasn't enlightened enough to shed every vestige of bullshit, male stoicism, but even he had his limits and it was suddenly very important to know if Spike was jerking his chain.

"You mean all that shit you said tonight?"

"No, I bounce around like a fucking tweaker over at the crypt too, you just never saw cause the only light in there comes from a shitty lamp I salvaged from the dump and not from sixteen antique Tiffany windows."

_Huh._ "You really think they're Tiffany? Cause I asked Willow and she didn't…"

"Mate, you've got to learn to take a bloody compliment."

"I don't think it's so much the complements as who's giving them," Xander told him seriously.

Spike cocked his head and Xander felt himself being sized up for the umpteenth time that night.

"Okay, seriously, _what_?"

Spike smiled that horrible, mischievous, wicked smile and Xander knew whatever was going to come out of his mouth wasn't going to make him feel like any less of a fool.

"I think Henri was right."

Which was the point when Xander's ego decided it wasn't built for that kind of violent shifting and his transmission dropped. With a roar, Xander pushed past Spike and made for the door. "Fuck you, Spike. I don't need this."

"I'm serious," Spike said, reaching out to stall his exit. Xander looked down at Spike's hand on his bicep. His fingers were narrow and delicate looking despite the chipped black polish on the nails. Kind of small. Pale. "Look, the truth is I need someone at my back I can trust. Angel wants to run the show an' that ain't gonna look good no matter how I spin it. Buffy…" Spike bit off the name with a pained expression Xander recognized only too well.

"Buffy's got her own agenda."

"Yeah, summat like that. Thing is, even hating me you did all this." Spike gestured broadly at the room.

_Do I hate him?_ Xander wondered. "It really wasn't that big a deal, and I'm pretty sure the staining is uneven on the paneling."

Spike growled and grabbed two fistfuls of bleached blond hair. "Christ, Harris, are you this much of a woman at work?"

Xander sighed in frustration and rubbed his eyes, trying not to give in to the hysterical laughter that wanted to bubble up from the deep wells of irony. "No, I'm not. Because I don't have to rack my brain there to figure out what's going to make a 156 year old vampire feel powerful enough to take down Village of the Damned rejects and undead Nazis." Spike stiffened, and Xander thought, What the hell, in for a penny… "I don't usually get to put this much of myself into my work, Spike. You got everything I have to give all around you and I gave it to _you_. You think maybe I'm feeling a little, I don't know, _exposed_, here?"

Spike squeezed his arm not unkindly. "I'm not exactly someone you need to explain artistic insecurity to, pet."

Xander laughed at that. "No I don't guess I do. So what, then, does this mean 'you like me, you really like me'?"

Spike snorted. "Yeah, Sally, 'spose I do. An' whether you like me or not—"

"You might be growing on me," he confessed. He'd walked several miles in Spike's shit-kickers that week to get the job done and Xander just wasn't the kind of guy who could be unaffected by something like that, apparently.

Spike smiled, but kept on. "—I need a second who knows how to not be first all the time."

Xander nodded understandingly, and took a moment to listen to the house creaking around him before his brain caught up with what Spike was asking.

_Second? He wants ME to be his second?_ "What about Buffy?"

"Oh come on, Xander, you know you're the only girl for me. Such a nummy treat an' all..."

He knew he was grinning stupidly, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "So this is the part, then, where I should probably make my token protest that I am human and therefore superior, and in no way second, to any vamp."

Spike looked like he was going to be offended until he finally registered Xander's words. "Token?"

Xander shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. "Yeah, I'm just not feeling it tonight. You complemented my grout work and frankly, being chosen over Buffy for anything is kind of flattering, so I'm skipping to the solemn handshake."

Xander held out said hand, which Spike took and used to pull Xander in. "Whoa, we're hugging now?"

Spike shrugged and grinned. "You're my second. Seems right. S'okay, ain't it?"

Xander cast his eyes heavenward then laughed and hugged him back. "Yeah, Kimosabe, we're good."

* * *

  
One of the things that stuck with Xander after the majority of the soldier's memories had disappeared from whence they came was the quote describing war as "long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror." It resonated with the soldier's experiences, but Xander remembered it because it also perfectly summed up the majority of Scooby meetings.

"He said he wishes to form an alliance with you; those were his exact words?" Giles asked Spike.

"Said he'n I were one'n the same and offered me his minions."

"I'm afraid I don't understand—"

Xander saw Spike grip the edge of the table and surmised he was rapidly loosing patience. "Giles, it's like you thought—he's not interested in the Hellmouth. He wanted to give us a heads up and offer his help."

"But are we sure he can be trusted?"

"No, Watcher, we can't be bloody sure, but if he decides to have a go at me, there isn't a bloody thing any of us here are going to be able to do about it."

"We'll see about that," Angel said.

"Oh, not this again," said Buffy.

"Angel," Spike began.

Angel pointed a warning finger in Spikes direction. "If you care about these people at all, you won't—"

"I'm not," Spike told him.

Angel nodded gravely. "Thank God one of you sees reason."

"Xander's agreed to be my second."

And just like that Angel rebuilt his head of steam. "What? How? Why?"

"I asked him last night and he said yes," Spike explained slowly and deliberately. "As for the why, seems like that'd be obvious. He's managed to hang around you lot for years without getting dead, an' he makes me look good."

Xander wasn't quite sure how to take that. The others looked at Xander with varying degrees of disbelief.

"Xander, is this true?" Giles asked.

He shrugged, resigned to whatever lecture was forthcoming. "Pretty much."

"He's not strong enough to protect your turf," Angel protested.

Suddenly, everyone's objections appeared to die on his or her lips.

"My turf?" Spike asked, grinning.

"Is there gonna be a rumble?" Asked Buffy quietly, choking back a laugh of her own.

"How's your dance-fighting, Harris?" Spike asked in mock seriousness.

"Peachy keen, Daddy-O," Xander replied with a wide grin.

Willow giggled. Out of nowhere, a fist connected with Xander's jaw.

"Angel, what the hell!" Buffy shouted.

Spike tackled Angel to the floor, and began pounding him viciously. Xander nursed his jaw as Buffy struggled to pull Spike off of Angel who was almost unrecognizable beneath a mask of blood.

"Spike!" Xander called out, horrified.

Spike stopped and fled to the back counter before he took up pacing behind Xander's seat while Riley and Buffy helped Angel to his feet.

"You think this is a joke?" Angel asked through a mouth filled with blood. "They are coming here to kill you. You are going to get the boy killed!"

Spike looked coldly at Angel. "If you touch my second again, I will dance in your ashes."

"William…" he growled.

"Get out," said Spike, everything in his demeanor conveying the utter seriousness of his threat.

Angel looked at Buffy.

"I think you'd better not be here right now, Angel," she said coldly.

As he left, Buffy turned to Spike. "I hope to hell you know what you're doing," she told him angrily, before following Angel out of the shop, Riley close on her heels. Xander saw Spike deflate almost imperceptibly making him look suddenly much, much older.

"I really need to be studying," Willow said, gathering her things and clearly looking to do the avoidy thing until such a time as she could process the idea of her best friend pitting himself against more than the usual compliment of evil. Xander let her go. It was her way.

"Me too," said Tara, apologetically.

"Be careful," Dawn said, pecking both men on the cheeks before following the witches out.

Giles said nothing, simply shook his head and retreated into his office. Xander winced when the door slammed, and looked at Spike.

"Well," he said with false cheer. "That went well."


	5. Chapter 5

Xander unpacked his things in silence as Spike, hunched under a packing blanket, brought yet another box in from the curb.

"Oi, how many more boxes you got out there?"

Xander looked around the previously uninhabited guest room of Spike's new lair and took a quick count.

"Dunno—maybe five or six?"

Spike's jaw dropped.

"Jesus bloody Christ, whelp, you're here for a week—what in the hell do you need all this rubbish for?"

Xander carefully peeled the newspaper off his limited edition Lyta Alexander plate and set it carefully on the stand resting on the dresser.

"Just figured if there was enough danger of someone trying to kill me in my apartment, who's to say they wouldn't trash the place or blow it up or something? Kinda wanted to make sure I had anything valuable with me just in case."

Spike looked incredulously from him to his Babylon 5 collector's plates.

"An' this crap constitutes valuables to you, does it?"

Xander wagged an imperious finger at him.

"I'll have you know the show won two Hugo awards for outstanding…something or other." Which reminded him. "Which reminds me, there's a TNG marathon on SciFi starting in twenty minutes. Mind if I watch in your room?"

"It's two in the bloody afternoon! I do have to sleep at some point, you realize—"

"I know, and I'm sorry but it's the only TV in the house and I'll be quiet as a mouse—you won't even know I'm there! Pretty, pretty please?" Xander pleaded turning his most pathetic expression on Spike.

Spike gave him a look of utter disgust.

"Fine, but you're bringing the rest of this shite yourself. I've smoked up the whole downstairs an' it's starting to smell like sausage down there."

Xander clasped his hands together and bowed in thanks.

"Thank you, Fearless Leader."

"Your accent's terrible, Boris."

Spike bent down to shift a pile of boxes impeding his path to the door and the hem of his shirt raised slightly, exposing the small of his back. Xander stared in fascination, then realized he was staring, realized he was fascinated, then realized he was stuck in a mental loop of staring and trying to figure out what the hell this sudden fascination with Spike's knobbly spine meant when the doorbell rang and all such thoughts fled rapidly.

Both heads turned to the window where the suggestion of bright daylight peaked out from the edges of the blackout curtains.

"It's too early, right? Can't be them yet, can it?" Xander asked, irritated by the obvious tremor in his voice.

Spike shook his head, seemingly to reassure himself as much as Xander.

"No, couldn't be. Don't worry," he said, looking Xander in the eye. "I'm sure it's just one of the birds, or summat."

Xander nodded.

"Right," he said, taking a dented sword in dire need of reconditioning from a duffel bag next to the bed.

Spike pulled a stake from his sleeve and fingered it absently as they proceeded single file down the staircase toward the door. Xander took a deep breath behind him and raised the sword to ready as Spike steeled himself, reached forward and opened the door.

"Hello boys—oh!"

Joyce startled and nearly dropped her casserole dish.

Xander rolled his eyes and dropped his arms to his side, feeling very stupid. Spike, likewise, put his stake away.

Joyce smirked in understanding.

"Expecting someone else, I take it?"

Spike sighed.

"Sorry, Joyce, just a bit on edge," he said, stepping aside for her to come in.

"It's all right, Buffy's told me what you boys are doing and I thought you might like a little housewarming gift."

"Joyce, you didn't have to do this," Xander told her, taking the casserole dish she handed him.

"Oh, that's not the present. That's just lasagna. No, this is the present," Joyce said, stepping back out and returning with a long box, quite heavy and wrapped fashionably in blue stripped paper.

Spike grinned.

"What's all this, then?" he asked.

Joyce smiled in response.

"Well open it, and I'll explain."

Spike looked at Xander and with a shrug they moved into the dining room. Xander set down the lasagna and moved over to where Spike was tearing through the paper with gusto, revealing a white box. Lifting the lid, Xander stared in momentary confusion as Spike reached down and caressed the charred red paint on the fire axe. Taking it in his hands, he turned to Joyce.

"This isn't…"

"The same one? I doubt it, but I did take it out of the school. I just thought you might like a reminder."

Spike looked no less gobsmacked.

"Of _what_? My first, spectacular defeat? No offence, luv, but this isn't a great comfort—"

"Of what makes you special. Both of you. I know the others are pretty upset with you right now because you chose Xander. I thought a reminder of what a human without any special powers can do against a vampire might be a good thing to have."

Xander was astonished. Spike grinned broadly and tightened his grip on the axe momentarily before handing it to Xander and pulling Joyce into a tight embrace.

"Right you are, luv. Right you are."

Joyce hugged him back before turning to Xander and fixing him with her sternest maternal glare.

"You be careful, Xander Harris. My Buffy needs you. Both of you."

With promises to that effect Xander hugged Joyce and the two men saw her out.

Closing the door, Spike looked back at him, radiating confidence. Xander couldn't help but grin. Spike matched his with interest and before long the two were laughing and nearly vibrating with hopeful anticipation for the battle to come.

"Come on, Harris, wasn't there something on the telly you wanted to watch?" Spike called back over his shoulder as he made his way back up the stairs.

Bemused, he replied,

"What happened to you getting your beauty sleep?"

Spike smirked at him and batted his eyelashes.

"Hardly need that, now, do I? 'Sides, we're gonna win, aren't we? Too excited to sleep."

Xander laughed.

"Fine. I'll bring the lasagna."

* * *

  
Spike had, in fact, dozed off midway through the second hour, which Xander thought was criminal considering it had been a Q episode, but then the doorbell rang and Xander left Spike to rest while he directed traffic. Giles was first to arrive, bringing with him an ornate, silver samovar for the buffet, followed by Buffy, rubbing the inside of her elbow and glaring in his direction.

"Xander, this samovar has been in my family for—" Giles fretted.

"And we'll return it to you tomorrow, washed, polished and thrice blessed by Buddhist monks. Everything you should need is in the kitchen," he gestured through the archway. "Where's Dawn, I thought she was helping you cook?"

Buffy glared at Xander.

"It seems she's been such a good little helper this week, she forgot to do any homework."

"Ah."

"Yes, Buffy will be assisting me in her stead," Giles explained.

Xander blanched.

"Giles are you sure that's such a—"

Buffy's murderous look stopped him finishing that sentence.

"You know, I just meant she's already contributed so much."

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"I'm chopping cabbage. That's it."

Just then, Tara and Willow arrived, followed closely by Riley.

"The fighting is all downstairs, you said?" Riley asked, halfway to the door.

"Yup," Xander confirmed as he took the two large shopping bags from Tara's hands. "There should be mineral oil and rags down there to clean the weapons. You need me to get you the room plans, or anything?"

"Naw, I think we're looking at a fairly basic security set up down there, and Willow's got the spells to power it up without tapping into the electrical."

"Awesome. I can't thank you guys enough for this."

"Hey, it's our town too! I don't want some stinky old Master coming in here to muck up the works." Willow stuck out her chin defiantly.

Xander pulled her into a one armed hug.

"That's my girl."

"Xander," Willow said, turning in his arm to look up at him.

"Yeah, Will?"

"I saw Anya at the Magic Box today. She—she told us you broke up. Is that true?"

Xander looked away.

"Yeah. And we're going to need to get together about that one-on-one real soon, but I can't think about that right now and still cope with hosting Satan's Supper Club tonight."

"Oh, Xander…"

"Please, Will?" he begged.

She nodded sadly before disappearing into the cellar with Riley.

Tara set up shop in the parlor, pulling out various items of clothing for himself and Spike the others deemed more appropriate for receiving visiting dignitaries than ripped jeans and Hawaiian shirts. Xander tried to tell them he had perfectly good dress clothes, but he was roundly ignored. As he poked through the bags, Tara pulled thread through her needle and began stitching the hem of a pair of trousers.

The doorbell rang again.

"Ah, deadboy, how delightful you could drop—"

Xander stopped as he took in the imposing figure of the tall African woman standing on the front stoop.

"I am Awiti, Childe of Isma'il, Master of Khartoum. I come to challenge William the Bloody, Master of Sunnydale, on behalf of my Sire."

"Um, well, I'm his second, so I guess, on his behalf I accept your challenge. Oh! And could you tell your Master dinner is at ten?"

Awiti cocked her head, apparently confused by his demeanor. Xander shrugged internally. It wasn't as if he could help it, he was just winging this, after all.

"I will let him know Mister…"

"Harris. Alexander Harris"

"Mister Harris, human servant of William the Bloody. My Master and I will return at ten this evening."

"Um, thanks."

Awiti nodded and left. Xander closed the door and leaned against it only moments before someone started banging on it loudly. He winced and stepped back with a sigh.

"Come in, Angel."

"Thanks, I…where is everyone?"

"Busy. Dawn's grounded, I think," he added as an afterthought.

"Well get Spike down here, we need to go over his script for tonight."

Xander's eyebrows rose at Angel's tone.

"Why don't you just give me the information and I'll pass it along when he wakes up."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harris, you'll never remember…"

"Just give me the damn spiel, Angel."

Angel's expression was sour as he spat,

"Fine. He needs to know that everything is done in order of seniority. That should be nothing new to him. Henri is the oldest, followed by Spike, then Isma'il and Katarine. Below her will be Henri's consort, Manon, then Isma'il's childe, Awiti, followed by Katarine's minion."

"Where do I fit into all this?"

Angel smiled with obvious pleasure.

"You're a human servant, Harris. A _Renfield_. You're at the very bottom of the food chain. You remember what that's like don't you?"

"Vividly. So besides bug eating, what else am I expected to do as Spike's second?"

"Do? Nothing. Consider yourself honored if they acknowledge your existence and don't even think about speaking before you're spoken to. You address Spike as Master at all times and never, _ever_ make eye contact."

"Terrific. Is that all?"

"Tell him he'd better have his company manners on tonight or neither of you stand a chance of making it to the first trial."

"Always a pleasure, Angel. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Before Angel could reply the doorbell rang again.

A smaller native looking man stood next to a black haired beauty with a smile than promised more than Xander had ever been offered. The timid looking man appeared to be waiting for her to speak, but she gestured for him to go first.

"I offer a challenge to William the Bloody on behalf of my Mistress, Katarine of Sao Paulo," came the abrupt response in broken English.

"Um, thank you. On behalf of William the Bloody, Master of Sunnydale, I accept. I'm sorry I didn't quite catch your name…"

The man looked startled.

"Alvaro," he said.

"Alvaro, very nice to meet you. I'm Xander. Please tell your Mistress dinner is at ten."

Looking utterly perplexed, he nodded briefly before scampering back down the steps. The woman chuckled.

"Henri was right. William is keeping interesting company these days."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Please, call me Manon," she told him, offering her hand. He took it. Unsure if she meant for him to kiss it or shake it, he opted for covering it with his other hand for a moment before releasing her.

"Manon. Won't you come in?" Xander said tensely, wanting to extend every courtesy to their ally's second.

"You're too kind. Angelus," she said upon seeing Angel behind him. "Still here I see."

Angel looked flustered by her intense and obvious distaste for his presence.

"Mistress De Sauveterre, it is an honor to see you again."

"Yes, it is," she told him. "Now leave us, I wish to speak to Xander."

Angel blinked.

"As you wish," he said, obviously not used to being dismissed in such a fashion. "Harris, I'll be back at the—"

"Yeah, we'll call if we need anything," he told him, not taking his eyes off Manon who smiled brightly.

Angel left grumbling.

"I'm sorry the house is kind of full at the moment. If you want, I can show you the garden and we can talk there," Xander offered.

Manon took his arm.

"Please do Mister Harris. Oh, before we go any further. I officially challenge William on behalf of Henri and all of that," she said airily.

Xander's jaw dropped and she laughed.

"Only a formality, I promise. He'll forfeit. He always does, but it's the best way to weed out the less serious contenders."

"Um, thank you, I think. And, uh, we accept."

"Splendid. Now this garden I've heard so much about…"

Xander renewed his grip on her hand.

"Right this way," he told her, leading her out through the back door into the garden. They chatted amicably for a while, talking about the flowers and her garden back in New Orleans before Xander led her to a bench near a trellis of jasmine and asked what he'd been dying to know since he'd heard Henri make mention of her to Spike.

"So how do I do this?"

"Do what?"

"This whole…second thing. Spike said I have to be ready in case someone takes him out in a fight but I'm looking at you and Awiti and Alvaro and I'm getting the picture that there's more to this gig than that."

Manon smiled gently.

"The others behave as their roles dictate. Alvaro is minion to Katarine and will attend her needs as she directs. Awiti is Isma'il's childe and she takes a more active role, though she attends him at his bidding as well."

"But not you."

"No, not me. I am consort. I am equal to Henri."

"So if you're not serving him—"

"I did not say that. I serve him as he serves me. As I _wish_ to serve him."

"He says you're the reason he's stayed in power so long. You must be doing something right."

Manon smiled and blushed prettily.

"Yes, well, Henri is sweet as spun sugar. It is no hardship to be his claimed."

"So what is it? What do you do that's different than the others?"

Manon fixed him with a measuring gaze.

"Are you asking out of curiosity or because you wish to serve your Master as I do?"

Xander swallowed, unsure how to answer.

"Angel's pissed at me and won't tell me anything useful. I just don't want to screw this up."

"I can only tell you that I love Henri, and that all I do stems from that."

Xander sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"I get that, but can't you give me some pointers or something? I'm not a vampire or a human consort and I don't want him to fail because I wasn't enough. Because I couldn't do something someone else could have, do you understand?'

Manon pursed her lips.

"Someone like Angelus, you mean?" She asked, tenderly stroking the stunning purple bruise on Xander's jaw.

He cut his eyes away and shrugged miserably.

"I will help you—" she told him decisively.

"_Thank_ you," said Xander fervently.

"—I wasn't finished," she told him sharply. "I will help you. But there are only a few hours until the others arrive and I have preparations of my own to make. Therefore, you will listen carefully to my instructions, do _everything_ I say, _as_ I say, _without_ question, and if you manage to get through the evening, we will speak further on the subject tomorrow. Do you agree?"

Xander heart raced as he considered the implications of her words.

"I don't have to kill anyone, do I?"

Manon bit back a smile and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Do you agree, Mister Harris?"

Taking a deep breath, Xander nodded.

"Yeah, I do."

"Very well then listen carefully. A vampire has no conscience; they are creatures of sensual impulse. They seek after and thrive on the satisfaction of their senses. It is the closest thing to a religion to them, this sensualism. It is not a matter of morality, but of natural instinct. Satisfy your Master's senses and his mind will be clear for the task at hand."

"How do I do that?"

"That is a matter of his tastes. You already have provided something pleasing to the eye—"

She gestured to the garden, though her eyes never left him.

"—What else do you know of him?"

"Um, well, he likes punk rock."

"Then you should play his music where he will hear it before the others come."

"Okay, music, check. What else?"

"Taste, touch, scent."

"Um, well, taste is pretty much covered by dinner I think."

"Touch?"

Xander froze, unsure what she expected.

"Vampires crave warmth, Mister Harris. Do you have a bath?"

He sighed and relaxed.

"Yes, yes we do."

"Then you will bathe him."

Xander's voice rose two octaves of it's own accord.

"_Bathe him_?"

Manon smiled gently.

"Make of it what you will. Oh, and use this."

"What is it?" Xander asked as he received the ornate glass bottle from her handbag.

"To perfume his bath. Tobacco and cassis."

Xander took it helplessly.

"Couldn't hurt to try it I guess. Anything else?"

Manon led Xander back inside to the parlor, walked past the quietly sewing Tara to the bookshelf and trailed a finger across the spines of the volumes there before resting on one and handing it to Xander.

"_Howl and Other Poems_," he read out from the cover.

"Whitman would be too cerebral for the occasion, don't you think?"

Xander shrugged.

"I'm going to have to take your word for it. So, what, I dunk him in the tub, put on his tunes, throw down an impromptu poetry slam in the bathroom and we're good to go?"

Manon shook her head fondly.

"As you say. But do not forget to look and listen. These are tools, but the result is up to you. If you wish him to succeed, you must look to his needs as your own. Allay his fears and calm his nerves."

Xander nodded absently, walking her to the front door.

"I can do this," he told himself.

Manon rested her soft, manicured hand on his shoulder.

"I believe you shall, Mister Harris."

And with a wink and a smile, she turned on her heel and left him to take care of Spike. He smiled to himself.

_I am Xander, comfortador extraordinaire._

"I can _do_ this."


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't do this."

Xander stood in the middle of the bathroom staring at the tub accusingly.

The tub ignored him and continued to fill.

Xander poured a little of Manon's bath oil into the tub.

_Hmm. Nice._ Xander thought.

After several more minutes spent in contemplation of the tiles, Xander could put off the inevitable no longer. The extra fluffy towels were fluffed. The Ramones were bopping. Two pewter pitchers stood at the ready to rinse Spike's hair since the tupperwear containers his mom always used didn't really seem to fit the ambience he was trying to achieve. It was time to add the vampire.

Xander snuck as quietly as he could into Spike's room but he needn't have bothered. The vamp was sprawled across the bed like he was just waiting for someone to come by with a stick of chalk to draw his outline. His jaw was slack; the gel in his hair was flaking onto the two hundred dollar silk shams…

_Breathe Harris._

Spike was drooling slightly. Despite all this, heaven help him, Xander thought it was kind of _cute_.

_Oh now is really not the time for this. Pull it together, Xanman._

"Spike." Xander sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and shook his shoulder gently.

"Mmfgmbl."

"_Spike_," Xander tried, a bit louder. "It's eight. Everyone's gone home. You should probably be getting ready."

"Hmm? What? Oh, yeah." Xander watched as Spike sat up, squinting in the late evening light.

Xander smiled. "Come on into the bathroom, fangless, I've got a surprise for you."

Spike quirked an eyebrow but followed him never the less.

Xander opened the door and gallantly ushered him inside.

Spike looked completely torn between utter confusion and amusement. "Mr. Harris, you're trying to seduce me."

"Not on purpose, actually."

Spike nodded, taking it all in. "The candles are nice."

"Yeah? I thought they might be too much."

"No, I don't think so."

They stood there for a few more moments in awkward silence.

"It was Manon's idea."

"Oh, was she here?"

"Dropped by to issue the challenge. Gave me the bath oil."

"That was sweet of her."

"Yeah."

"So are you gonna tell me what this is all about, pet?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?"

Spike snorted.

"I asked for a few pointers on being a good second." Xander admitted. "She thought this might help you relax."

Spike shook his head and smiled fondly. "Meddlesome cunt."

Xander was about to ask if he should forget the whole thing when Spike peeled off his shirt.

"Music's a nice touch, pet, you pick that out?"

Xander's mind was temporarily preoccupied with Spike's bare chest.

"Xander?"

_God, did he look like that before he died?_

Spike smirked and dropped trou. "Not exactly. Vamps have a higher metabolism than humans."

"Please tell me you read minds and I didn't just say that out loud."

Spike laughed and slipped into the tub, groaning as the hot water slipped around his neck.

Shaking off his stupor, Xander stepped forward brought over the pitchers.

"God, this is bloody marvelous."

Xander smiled and knelt behind Spike. "Here, lean your head back a little so I can get your hair wet."

"Hmm? Oh, right."

Xander placed one hand behind Spike's head and sluiced water over his hair with the other.

_I am not lusting. I am not caressing his hair. I am not staring at his pecs. I am not…_

Spike moaned.

_I am so screwed._

"You say something, Xan?"

"I need you to move. So I can wash your hair," Xander covered, mentally slapping himself as he squirted a generous dollop of shampoo into his hands and began massaging it into Spike's scalp.

_What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was_ Manon _thinking?_

Spike sighed deeply. "Xan?"

"Yeah, Spike?"

"Thank you."

Xander paused his hands and smiled before redoubling his efforts, drawing an answering groan from Spike.

"God that feels bloody amazing."

Xander grinned and scraped his nails across Spike's scalp. Spike shuddered.

"Jesus…"

Xander giggled very manfully.

"Oh you think that's funny do you?"

Suddenly, Xander's pant leg was wet. He looked at the suspiciously still vampire and drug his nails through his hair torturously slowly. Spike's hips bucked in the water.

Xander splashed him in the face.

Spike opened his eyes and suddenly Xander thought he might kiss Spike.

Until the pitcher of water was dumped over his head and he shrieked like a little girl.

Spike laughed uproariously as Xander skittered to the edge of the room, away from his maniacally laughing assailant.

"You! You…"

"The look on your face!" Spike cackled.

Xander laughed. He couldn't help it. He picked up a towel and began to dry his hair. The mood was thoroughly broken but Spike looked relaxed and happy and that was a good thing.

"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up blood breath. You're not the one who's gonna be cleaning up this mess."

Spike was silent while Xander toweled himself off, eventually giving it up as a bad job and dropping the bath sheet over the biggest puddle.

"What's that?" Spike asked as Xander prepared to rinse the soap from his hair.

"What's what? Here, tilt your head back." Xander poured the remaining pitcher over Spike's hair, feeling it slip through his fingers like silk with the gel removed.

"Book. Over there, on the counter."

Xander followed his gaze to the book of poetry. "Oh. That. Manon picked it out. _Howl_, I think? You want me to get it for you?"

Spike chuckled darkly. "That _woman_. No, Xan, don't bother. Got it memorized. You ever read it?"

He shook his head, but realizing that Spike probably couldn't see the gesture, added, "No, I'm not much for poetry," for good measure.

Spike smirked. "Dru an' I split up for a while after Rome. Didn't take it real well. Spent a lot of time in flophouses. Ate a lot of beatniks and junkies. One of em' left a copy behind. Guess you could say it spoke to me. All about fighting, fucking, chasing the next fix an' everyone around you doin' the same, terrified that's all there is, an' in the middle of it all, finding something worth holding on to."

Xander listened intently, pouring a small amount of soap onto a washcloth and drawing it over Spike's shoulders. "So lay it on me."

"Thought you didn't like poetry?"

"The stuff that's all flowers and meter? Not so much. Doesn't sound like anything I ever read in English class, though. Come on, give me a little bit."

Spike was quiet, the only sound in the room the water splashing in the tub as Xander meticulously washed his torso. Softly, he began,

> "_I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by 
>
>> madness, starving hysterical naked,
> 
> dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn 
>
>> looking for an angry fix,
> 
> angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly 
>
>> connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-   
> ery of night,
> 
> who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
>
>> up smoking in the supernatural darkness of  
> cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities  
> contemplating jazz…
> 
> _"

Xander let the strange words caress him even as he was caressing Spike's body, the poetry lending a strange detachment to his actions, or perhaps justifying them with echoed intimacy. As he warmed to his audience, Spike's voice grew louder, more emphatic.

> "_…who chained themselves to subways for the endless 
>
>> ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine   
>  until the noise of wheels and children brought   
>  them down shuddering mouth-wracked and   
>  battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance   
>  in the drear light of Zoo…
> 
> _"

Xander became hypnotized, subtly aware that his world was slowly rearranging itself to justify the existence of this demon-poet whose continued survival had somehow become the lynch-pin of his own, and for whom words like _beautiful_ were taking on new meaning and he kept thinking, _my God,_ he_, is why art exists._

> "_…to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human 
>
>> prose and stand before you speechless and intel-   
>  ligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet con-   
>  fessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm   
>  of thought in his naked and endless head,
> 
> the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, 
>
>> yet putting down here what might be left to say   
>  in time come after death,
> 
> and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in 
>
>> the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the   
>  suffering of America's naked mind for love into   
>  an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone   
>  cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
> 
> with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered   
> 
>
>> out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand   
>  years.
> 
> _"

Spike finished, panting softly, the water in the tub having long since gone cold.

"What does it mean?" Xander asked, captivated.

Spike looked at him for the first time since he'd begun, and smiled. "It's a love poem."

Xander laughed. After a moment, Spike joined him.

Back in Spike's room, Xander stood by as Spike dressed.

"Been a long time since I had a valet. Could get used to this," Spike said as Xander handed him his cufflinks.

Xander was willing to admit to himself he was sorry to see Spike's wrists covered. It was a mantra he'd been repeating with every successive piece of clothing and he likened it to appreciating a great sculpture. His dick wasn't exactly following the party line, however, which was saying something considering his clothes were still damp and he was cold as hell.

The doorbell rang and he felt rather than saw Spike tense as Xander helped him into his jacket. "Hey, relax," he said.

Spike gave him a nervous nod of his head.

"Seriously. You're gonna do great tonight," Xander told him, fiddling with a curly bit of Spike's hair.

"Shit, I forgot. Be a pet and grab my gel, would you?"

Xander smirked. "Looks better without."

Spike rolled his eyes. The doorbell rang again.

"Really. You look good. Now go show those assholes who the real Big Bad is."

With a last look Spike turned and opened the door, before doubling back and catching Xander in a tight hug. He froze, hoping Spike wouldn't notice the stubbornly non-platonic portions of his anatomy. His shit-eating grin when he pulled away suggested otherwise, however.

"Don't be long," he called back over his shoulder.

Xander glared at his retreating back.

"I'm trying."

* * *

  
After a brief, brutally cold shower, Xander pulled out his phone and frantically dialed Willow.

"Xander? I thought you were—"

"I am. Was. _Am_. Shit, Will, I'm freaking here. There are four vamps down stairs baying for blood, meanwhile I just _bathed_ Spike which may or may not have turned me gay because I am _lusting_ after _Spike_, Willow, what the _hell_ is going on?"

"Xander, breathe."

"Breathing."

"Okay, are the lusty thoughts a new thing?"

"Possibly not, it's been a weird couple of days."

"Well, Anya did just break up with you. Are you sure this isn't a rebound?"

"_To Spike_? _Anya_ was a rebound. _Spike_ is a psychotic break from reality."

"Well he is sort of compact yet well muscled."

"Not to mention he's got that strong and mysterious vibe going for him—and is that the gayest thing I could have said just now?"

"Xander, what bothers you most about this, that it's a guy, a vamp, or Spike?"

"Well I just never figured I'd be switch hitting so late in the game, you know? I mean, it's not like I have a problem with it. It's just, if this was going to happen, shouldn't I have picked up on it sooner? Then again, Larry thought I was gay, but I think that had more to do with me pumping him for information—oh God, I did not just say that."

"Xander, I think it's different for everyone. I never even looked at another girl until Tara. Well, maybe a little, but I don't think I knew what I was doing."

"So what are you saying then, Will? _Spike_ turned me gay?"

"No, I'm saying sometimes we can't help who we're attracted to. Don't over-think this. If you find out you're attracted to other guys beside Spike, maybe you are bisexual or something, but most people are to some extent."

"So this is normal? No big deal?"

"No big deal. I promise."

"What about the vamp thing?"

"Well at least he doesn't have a soul to lose."

"This is a valid point. Of course, he also doesn't have soul."

"True. He does have a chip, though!" She argued, cheerfully.

"What about the fact this is _Spike_ we're talking about?"

"If he hurts you I will kill him with a shovel."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"Xander, aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? I mean, do you even know how he feels?"

Xander sighed deeply. "I'm pretty sure all the lusty feelings are on this end."

"See? Non issue."

"Yeah."

"And this is a bad thing I take from the fact you sound like I just uninvited you to my birthday party."

"Don't joke, that was devastating."

"Then you shouldn't have stolen my Barbie."

"You got most of it back. Anyway, I know it doesn't make any sense but even though I really don't want to feel, well, _anything_, about Spike, unrequited warm fuzzies are still unrequited, you know?"

There was silence on the other end.

"Yeah, I guess you would know about that. And I'll be shutting up now. My, this foot looks tasty."

Willow laughed. "Aw, I'm just sweatin' ya. I know what you mean, sweetie. So what's the verdict, do I root for fuzzy feelings or is this a strictly hand-holding and repression kind of gig?"

"Can I say both?"

"Denial and hope on reserve, check."

"And I am going to be really late for this shindig if I don't make with the gussying up pronto."

"I love you, Xander. Now go knock em' dead. Or deader."

"Love you back."

Xander flipped the phone shut and threw it on the bed.

"Hello, my name is Xander, and I have a hard-on for the evil undead."

Xander stared accusingly at the suit jacket on the bed.

"This can't end well."

* * *

  
The Master of Khartoum was surprisingly polite, and despite his cherubic face and coffee colored ringlets, Xander had no problem whatsoever believing he was an incredibly dangerous foe. Xander stood by the drinks cabinet observing his interactions with Henri and Manon while Spike chatted with Awiti. Thus far, Manon and Henri had been nothing but gracious to Xander and the others, which made the Mistress of Sao Paulo's entrance no less intimidating when the Master and his Consort visibly bristled.

"Mistress Katarine, welcome to my home," Spike greeted her.

Xander stood to the side prepared to take her coat but was completely ignored as she stepped into the foyer and gave a small sniff of disdain.

"How quaint. Alvaro!" she called out. The small native man scurried up the path only to be stopped by the invisible barrier. The ice blond smiled knowingly.

"You allow your human to own property?"

"Basic security," Spike responded coolly.

"Come in, Alvaro," Xander said under his breath.

"Alvaro, find somewhere to put this since our host's minions appear to be elsewhere this evening," she ordered, flinging her coat at his head.

"Yes, Mistress," he said, faltering when no other directions were forthcoming.

Xander ground his teeth.

"Behind the stairs," he said, quietly, watching as Alvaro left to make sure he didn't wander.

"Xander, would you please escort our guests to the dining room?" Spike asked. Xander nodded deferentially.

"Yes, Master. If you would follow me, please?"

Once everyone was seated around the table (save for Alvaro, who had been instructed to eat in the kitchen) Xander brought the soup tureen from the kitchen and served the first course to all but Katarine who refused human food of any kind, then took his seat beside Spike. Spike took the first bite and nearly spit it out. Xander smirked. Then he saw Manon laughing into her napkin softly and noticed Spike was stifling a laugh of his own.

"You have quite a talented chef here, Master William," Manon began.

"Thank you. I believe Xander set the menu this evening. How do you find your _czarnina_ Master Isma'il?"

He smiled gamely.

"It's been quite some time since I've enjoyed Polish cuisine. My compliments."

Katarine glowered.

When Xander returned from clearing the soup plates with a platter of _golumpki_ he found himself in the midst of Katarine's opening salvo. He kept his head down as he served and listened.

"I must confess, I am curious what purpose you could have in keeping hold of the Hellmouth when you yourself are unable to enjoy it's…pleasures."

With a nod from Spike, Xander got up and poured four long draughts from the samovar on the buffet. As each master took a goblet from the tray he brought around, Spike responded,

"I admit, it is difficult at times, but not entirely without it's rewards. Tell me, how are you enjoying your blood?" He asked, drinking deeply himself from his own goblet.

Isma'il's eyes widened in surprise.

"This is slayer's blood!" he exclaimed.

Katarine's eyes narrowed.

"Never had slayer before, I take it? Nothing quite like it, I find. Of course, it is hard to come by, I dare say. One girl in all the world, and all that. And they always seem so slight, have you noticed? Hardly ever more than a mouthful in them, it seems. Remarkable regenerative powers, though. Did you know, you can bleed a gallon a week from a live slayer without any ill effect to the girl?"

Xander remembered exactly how much of a fit Buffy had thrown when they'd asked her to donate to the party, but despite the very disgusting turn the conversation was taking, he couldn't help but admire it's effect on Katarine.

"Yes, I can see having a pet slayer has served you well. Perhaps I shall take one for myself some day."

Xander snorted, then froze as Katarine's eyes turned to him.

"Of course, I doubt I would have the patience to bleed her in such a…civilized fashion. There's nothing quite like the experience of sinking fang into vein, the smell of fear and pain…you must miss it a great deal."

Spike's eyes hardened.

"Not all bites need be painful, and I've always favored the flavor of lust, myself," he bluffed, nodding deferentially towards Henri and Manon.

"Extraordinary," Isma'il said. "The chip allows this? Or do you mesmerize them somehow?"

Spike leered.

"I've never needed to mesmerize a human to make them want it," he said.

Xander thought he heard the trap spring even before Katarine's eyes flashed in triumph. He bit back a groan.

"I think I would quite like a demonstration of this extraordinary ability," she said with calculated nonchalance.

"Indeed, if such a thing is possible, such a technique would be of immeasurable benefit to the Masters in developing regions, such as myself."

Spike seemed completely unfazed by the request, but Xander noticed his hand tightening reflexively under the table. Manon caught Xander's eye and nodded infinitesimally. His eyes widened. Was she suggesting what he thought she was?

"Forgive me, but I must decline."

"How sweet you allow your human pets their illusions of modesty. You really are a slave to their comfort, aren't you?" Katarine mocked.

Manon caught Xander's eye again and nodded in Spike's direction with less subtlety this time.

Xander widened his eyes and shook his head slightly.

Manon, as it turns out, had a surprisingly convincing Resolve Face.

Xander stifled the impulse to whimper and tried to turn off all higher brain function currently screaming at him that this was a horrible idea.

"_Master_," he said with a prayer that Manon wasn't setting them up for certain disaster.

Spike's eyes went as wide as saucers.

"I don't mind."

Spike blinked, at a complete loss for words.

Henri smiled and went in for the save. "Why don't we adjourn to the parlor and you can make your servant more comfortable."

"Yes—yes, good idea," Spike sputtered, still staring at Xander as though he'd completely lost his mind. Xander tried to communicate wordlessly that it was Manon's idea, but it probably just looked like he'd developed a nervous tick.

Spike's face was a complete blank as everyone settled into the parlor. Settling himself onto the chaise, he held out a hand toward Xander. Taking a deep breath, Xander walked forward and took it. Spike looked up at him and smiled in what was probably intended to be reassurance before drawing him down beside him on the chaise and settling him between his legs. Xander reclined awkwardly against Spike, his back flush to his chest. He felt himself begin to hyperventilate. Spike's voice registered in his ear. "It's all right, Xander. I'm not going to hurt you."

His voice was soothing. Tender, even. He'd only ever heard Spike speak to Dru like that. Xander tensed. Though he knew the ruse depended entirely upon on his believing Spike's words, he found his obvious insincerity painful.

Stupid, fuzzy feelings.

And then Spike's hand was pressed to his chest, his arm holding him tightly as he ran the fingers of his other hand through his hair and Xander sighed deeply, shuddered, and relaxed into the embrace. Spike began placing small kisses along his neck, and Xander's world suddenly narrowed to the sensation of Spike's lips on his skin and the sound of his own breathing. Some part of him noted he was playing his part a little too convincingly. He couldn't quite help the small moan that escaped as Spike nipped the spot just below his ear where his neck met his jaw. Even knowing they had an audience somehow didn't prevent the arousal he felt tenting his trousers. Xander's gasp as Spike's thumb grazed his nipple drew a murmur of laughter from the room, but before he could become self-conscious Spike licked a trail from his collarbone to his jaw and Xander's hips bucked into the air helplessly.

He never felt Spike's fangs enter his neck, but the first draw of his blood set his nerve endings on fire as he keened his orgasm. He whimpered as two successive draws caused his over-stimulated cock to pulse sympathetically. And then he felt Spike's tongue on his neck, a small kiss on his pulse point, and Spike unwound himself from around Xander and he was lowered gently to recline on the chaise.

Distantly he heard Spike apologize to the others. "I'm afraid my servant is quite done in. Shall we call it a night?"

Xander didn't register much else beside the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest and the sound of his own breathing.


	7. Chapter 7

"Wait for me upstairs, I need to lock up." Spike held himself stiffly and refused to look Xander in the eye.

"Um…okay," he said, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. He kind of hoped Spike would have wanted to pick things up where they'd left off on the chaise but Spike's command sounded pretty damned cold. He'd thought for just a moment Spike might have actually felt something for him. _Apparently not_, Xander thought with a slight twinge in the vicinity of his heart. Gone too, apparently, was the easy camaraderie from earlier. So Xander went upstairs. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom and changed into sweats, spent a few minutes reading comics in his room before realizing he hadn't actually taken in a word on the page in the last ten minutes and how long did it take to lock the damn doors, anyway?

_Maybe Spike wanted to meet in his room?_ Xander thought.

He wasn't in his room. Xander sighed and flopped down on his bed in irritation before flipping on the TV to wait out whatever the hell Spike was doing down there. Halfway through the second episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force, the door swung open and Spike stood there, beer bottle in hand, eyes feral and yellow and generally looking as though he was trying very hard not to attack him.

_Well, happy to see you too._

When Spike's eyes finally bled back to blue, Spike took a deep breath, then took one last swig from the bottle in his hand before throwing it against the opposite wall where it shattered. Xander ducked reflexively and shut off the TV, swinging himself off the bed and taking a defensive posture.

"What the hell were you _thinking_?" Spike growled.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Xander yelled back.

"I could have _drained_ you—I could have _killed_ you, you imbecile!"

"I was _thinking_ about saving face after you let that Nazi bitch bait you!"

"It wasn't me they were baiting! There's no trick to making a bite feel good; they were setting you up! Christ, Harris…"

_Ah. Shit._ "I didn't know…" he said weakly.

Spike scrubbed his face with his hands and leaned heavily against the wall. "And they knew that. They obviously suspect I have no real power over you or they wouldn't have asked."

"But I let you bite me—that has to count for something! I _passed_, right?"

Spike turned a sympathetic eye on him. His voice was resigned. "They know you're motivated to pretend you're my human servant, but we're not fooling anyone. They've put two and two together by now."

Xander thought that was pretty goddamn unfair. After everything he'd done? What the hell did he need to do to impress these assholes anyway? "So what do we do?"

Spike snorted and sank into the chair by the dresser. "We? Weren't you listening? There _is_ no we anymore. Angel was right."

Spike's words forced the air from Xander's lungs. "No."

"Are you listening to me? Game's over."

Xander clenched his fists as the bands tightened around his chest. "Is that what this is to you?" he asked, quietly furious.

Spike's laugh was empty. "Pretty good fiction that I'm in charge of anything around here."

"You fucking coward," Xander spat, enraged.

Spike wasn't laughing anymore. Up like a shot, he was in Xander's face before he noticed he'd even moved. "What did you say to me?" He asked in dangerous tones.

Xander didn't flinch, didn't blink. No way was he giving up without a fight. "You heard me. I didn't sign on to help the Slayer's bitch. If William the Bloody is too much of a pussy to take Sunnydale, fine. Then give it to a real Master."

Spike roared with rage punched Xander in the mouth before collapsing with a scream of agony. Xander lifted him by his shirtfront and slammed him to the wall.

"M'not gonna lose you! Fuck…" Spike shouted.

Xander pulled away as if burned.

Spike didn't meet his eye, choosing to address the floor instead. "What are you doing to me, Xander," Spike asked no one in particular. "Turned everything upside down. Making me want…more. Am I mad? Must be mad, hoping for things I'll never… Your bloody fault, you know! With the way you listen and those damned _eyes_ of yours… Way you touched me…way you offered yourself to me…" He broke off with an intensely quizzical expression he directed at Xander, Spike's blue eyes so vulnerable Xander's heart broke a little. "Don't know if there's a chance…"

"There's every chance," Xander said, voice hoarse with emotion.

For a moment, a spark of hope flickered in Spike's expression until a single thought appeared to snuff it out. "They'll kill you to draw Buffy out!" Spike howled miserably.

Xander sighed in frustration and stiffened his resolve. "Then I'm obviously not doing my job right."

Spike's eyes blazed, the corded muscles in his neck taut. Xander grabbed Spike's rigid shoulders and crushed his mouth to his.

Spike's lips were softer than he'd expected. His tongue darted out to taste them and Spike's mouth opened beneath his, their tongues meeting and caressing. Spike moaned into his mouth, body unfurling.

"I'm not in this for Buffy," Xander told him, palming Spike's crotch.

"Oh fuck, yes…"

"And I'm not gonna be your consolation prize if it's her you really want." Xander nipped at the junction of Spike's neck and shoulder.

"God…"

"So you better tell me if I'm wasting my time."

Spike pulled back abruptly and cupped Xander's face in his hand. "Not wasting it. Not wasting your time, Xand."

Spike pulled Xander's mouth to his and kissed him so tenderly it made his chest ache. Xander wound his fingers in Spike's hair and deepened the kiss, fingers gently questing across the vampire's neck as Spike's hands caressed the broad expanse of his back before tugging at the hem of his tee shirt. Xander reluctantly broke their kiss as his shirt came off, his trembling fingers fumbling to unbutton Spike's shirt. Then Spike was pressing his mouth to his in a bruising kiss and backing him across the room. Xander sat heavily as the backs of his knees found the edge of the bed. Spike rapidly began shucking his clothes and Xander leaned back on his elbows to enjoy the show. The shirt came off in a blur, the cufflinks pinging across the room. Trousers came next and Xander laughed as Spike tripped, ankles hobbled, and wound up sprawled on top of him.

"S'not funny, git," Spike said, though his own laughter called the veracity of that statement into immediate question. Xander just grinned and brought his hands up to frame his vampire's face, smiling his kiss into Spike's lips as his feet inelegantly worked to free Spike from his pants.

Finally unencumbered, Spike rose up and straddled Xander's hips, fingers mapping his bare chest. "So bloody gorgeous…"

Xander panted as curious fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants and he rose up, allowing Spike to pull them off, freeing his erection before Spike lowered his mouth to Xander's groin and with an anarchic smirk, swallowed him down to the root.

Xander's hips would have bucked Spike off the bed entirely but for strong, cool hands on his hips that held him steady as razorblade cheekbones bobbed between his thighs. He moaned as Spike's tongue swirled around the head of his cock while clever fingers cupped and rolled his balls, fists clenched around handfuls of silk as he strained with the effort of not spending in that wicked mouth.

"Come here," he told him, hand on Spike's head as the blond crawled up Xander's body to capture his mouth in a kiss. Xander tasted himself on Spike and grew impossibly harder as Spike thrust his cock against Xander's, slick with sweat and saliva. He grabbed the blonde's ass and ground their hips together harder, panting with need, and finding answering, mindless _want_ staring right back at him.

"Jesus…fuck…" Spike ground out, thrusting erratically.

"Spike…" Xander cried, rutting his completion against Spike's shaft as he felt the vampire's cock pulse and spill his release on Xander's belly.

As Xander's breathing returned to normal, Spike's fingers brushed through his damp hair, twining around the curls at the nape of his neck.

"Wow," Xander managed.

Spike snorted into his shoulder, before dropping a kiss on his forehead.

"Back in a mo, luv. Get comfy," he ordered.

After cleaning them both off with a warm washcloth, Spike settled them both under the covers, tucked Xander under his arm, and kissed the top of his head gently. Even Anya, for all her protestations of love, had never made him feel so cherished, after sex or anytime, really. That it should occur now, and with Spike, of all people, was a profound revelation to say the least. But verbalizing those kinds of thoughts had never been Xander's strong suit. Instead, what he said was, "I think you got the better mattress."

Spike chuckled lowly and Xander found he liked how it felt and sounded with his ear pressed to his chest.

"You bought it, luv. Have this in mind from the first, did you?"

Xander laughed self deprecatingly. "Really, really no. I've never done…_anything_…like…"

"Me neither," Spike said softly and Xander grew hyper aware of his fingers tracing patterns on his arm.

Propping himself up on his elbow he looked down into Spike's peaceful expression. "Think we could try it again tomorrow?" he asked playfully.

Spike leaned up and kissed him grinning. "I'm counting on it."

Xander smiled happily and curled up against Spike's side again. "Night Spike."

Spike sighed sleepily. "G'night, luv."

* * *

  
Sharing a cup of coffee or blood around the kitchen island followed by a morning that stretched into an afternoon watching a Steven Seagal marathon in bed officially ranked as Xander's best Morning After ever. It was also all the time they had to themselves before the first challenge, something they studiously ignored while debating the finer points of Under Siege versus Under Siege 2.

Eventually, however, the lure of dual showerheads became too much to resist, and one extremely inefficient shower later, Xander was setting up chairs in the cellar while Spike paced nervously between racks of swords, pikes and maces.

"For the love of God, would you stop that? What the hell would Henri want with Sunnydale?"

"How do I know he hasn't made a deal with one of the others to set them up here as Master behind my back?"

"Gee, I dunno, because he wouldn't spit on Katarine if she was on fire?"

"What about Isma'il?"

"Never gonna happen."

"An' how do you know that?"

"Cause he's terrified I'd kick his ass with my wacky carpenter fu, that's why," he responded glibly, coming up behind Spike and wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

Spike sighed and hung his head.

"I'm not the type to back long odds. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you could mop the floor with him," Xander told him seriously. "You're an unpredictable and adaptable fighter. It's what makes you so dangerous. Buffy, too, come to think of it," he added as an afterthought.

Spike turned in his arms and kissed him desperately before pulling away and fixing him with an over-intense look of resolve and longing.

"Oh, don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

Xander smirked. "Like you're about to put me on the next flight out of Casablanca."

Spike sighed in resignation and turned back to the swords. "Not gonna kick you out, Xan. I'm too much of a selfish bastard. But I wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted out, either."

Xander smiled and took his hand as he pulled a cutlass from the rack for inspection.

"I think I'll take my chances."

* * *

  
As promised, Manon arrived shortly after dusk to coach Xander and was wholly unsurprised to learn his relationship with Spike had taken a turn for the physical.

"You set me up!" Xander cried.

Manon laughed softly. "Lesson number two: if you know what is best for your Master, then trust it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission."

Xander continued to gawp.

"Do you know how Henri and I met, Alexander?"

Xander shook his head.

"I was in a _mariage de la main gauche_ to a shipping magnate. He took me walking one evening in the _Vieux Carré_ and two men approached him and asked to purchase my company for the evening. Those were the times we lived in, unfortunately," she added, seeing the look of shock on Xander's face, "My grandmother was a slave and I was too dark to pass. The men offered Monsieur an insulting amount which he might have entertained had a voice not called down from the gallery offering twice the sum and a sack of rubies."

"Henri."

"Yes. I was to stay a week in his company. Imagine my surprise when I found living with a vampire more agreeable than life as a _placée_ with Monsieur."

"Was that when Henri made you his Consort?"

Manon smirked. "Once I decided I wanted to stay with Henri despite the terms of the agreement I spent my time making myself invaluable to him. By weeks end, he was certain it had been his intention from the start to make me Consort."

Xander laughed.

"Do you know Henri came to kill William his first night here? He intended to turn the Hellmouth over to one of his childer."

Xander paled. "What stopped him?"

Manon smiled. "You did. He came to me that night and told me of this extraordinary young man so devoted to his Master he physically restrained him from submitting." Manon laughed but Xander was still horrified. "Henri may not know all the ways in which I have smoothed his path in the past, but he knows enough to know what that kind of devotion can accomplish. Your Master never marked you, never claimed you, and Henri knew of his arrangement with the Slayer, but he knew from the moment he met you that William would not fail with you at his side."

Xander turned a hard look on Manon. "Tell me the truth, is Henri planning to fight tonight?"

"No. He is not. And even if he had considered taking Isma'il's offer—"

Xander's stomach clenched.

"—I would not have allowed it."

"Why?"

Manon smiled ruefully. "Because I like you, _cher_. And I will enjoy having another Consort to entertain when our Masters are busy maintaining each other's claims."

Manon glanced briefly at her watch before rising to leave.

"But I'm not his Consort," Xander argued.

She turned back and smiled mischievously.

"Not yet."

* * *

  
The "battle" was as anti-climactic as promised. The Masters bowed and took their positions in the circle, then Henri sank to one knee and tilted his head in submission. As expected, Spike opted out of drinking from Henri, resting his hand briefly on his neck instead (Katarine audibly scoffed in disgust at his display of mercy) before offering a hand up and receiving a clap on the shoulder in return. As they filed out, Xander caught Spike's muttered "God, I need a drink," and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The reception following the battle was noticeably more divided than the previous evening's cocktail hour and dinner theater. Knowing what he did, Xander now saw the anger simmering beneath the surface of Isma'il's generally placid exterior, as well as something like worry in the face of his Childe. Apparently, they hadn't planned on their offer being rejected. Xander made a mental note to keep his eyes and ears open and to double check with Willow and Riley that the non-tampering and deception sensors were still in working order. Katarine was as smugly disdainful as always, and held herself aloof as Xander poured drinks, barely acknowledging his presence as he passed her a goblet of rich, red liquid.

Xander tried not to look like he was staring as she took a sip.

And promptly spit it out.

"I'm sorry, I must have poured from the wrong bottle," He said, trying to affect a sincere, apologetic tone and probably failing miserably.

Spike frowned suspiciously and took the goblet from Katarine and gave it a sniff. His eyes widened in incredulity. "_Mogen David_?"

"Oh dear, they must have brought over the Seder wine by mistake. It's so hard to find good help these days," Xander told her, shaking his head at his social faux pas.

Katarine's nostrils flared, her control on her demon momentarily slipped, allowing her gameface through. "Indeed. I marvel at your patience, Master Spike."

Spike sent Xander a fondly exasperated look. "Alexander still has much to learn about entertaining, but his other manifold talents are ample compensation."

Katarine's smile was chilling. "He _must_ be a remarkable young man that you would invest yourself so deeply in such a short-term speculation. I hope he fully appreciates how fortunate he is to find an Immortal willing to overlook his fading flower and forsake the lure of endless youth and a companion who will not succumb to mortal ailments."

Xander tried to hide how deeply her words bothered him, the cost of which was his silence the rest of the evening as he watched Spike laugh easily with Manon and was forced to wonder if caring for Spike wasn't doing him a disservice after all.

* * *

  
"You were awful quiet after that little stunt you pulled. Something on your mind?"

Xander toed off his shoes as he loosened his tie.

Spike's shirt sailed across the bedroom to land in a heap by the chair as he flopped onto the bed and began channel surfing. "That was a bloody brilliant piece of work, by the way. Much as I'm enjoying your little game of 'bait the Nazi', though, you might want to ease up some. You're going to wind up making yourself more of a target than you already are."

Xander watched Spike thoughtfully as he fiddled with his cufflinks. "Am I making this more difficult for you?"

Spike looked up, confused. "More difficult? No, pet. Actually, I needed a good laugh."

"I mean, my being here. Am I a burden to you?"

Spike sat up in bed. "What's this all about, luv? You thinking on what that twat said tonight?"

Xander shrugged. "Kinda made me wonder if you might not be better off with someone like Drusilla."

Spike stood and crossed the room to stand before Xander, taking his hands as he spoke. "Dru gave me a hundred years of grand passion. What she never gave me was one chance to be first in her affections. Five minutes with you and I feel like the only man in the world. I'd trade ten lifetimes with Dru for ten more minutes with you."

Xander blushed hotly as Spike's hand came up to caress his cheek. "Dru will always be beautiful, though," he protested. "I'm a carpenter racking up frequent flyer miles in the ER. You don't deserve…"

"Don't deserve what, eh? To feel cared for? Desired? The hot, pulsing life beneath your skin? The smell of sawdust and Right Guard that'll now get me hard for the rest of my unlife? That smile I'll act a fool to catch one glimpse of?" Spike rested his forehead against Xander's. "Do I worry about you? Fuck yeah. Not going to have a moment's peace until we're well shot of these bastards, but looking out for you is no hardship, and the way I reckon you see me—_really_ see me? You're second to _no one_, Xan."

Xander flipped him around, pressing his cock into the cleft of Spike's ass, his hand rubbing Spike's erect shaft through his pants. "No, I'm _your_ second," he said.

"Shit…" Spike breathed, grinding up against Xander's palm.

"It's my job to take care of you."

"Fuck…Xan…" He whimpered.

"My job to give you what you need."

"Please…" Spike begged prettily.

Without thinking, he'd slipped into the role he'd assumed when the threat of mortality became too much for Anya to cope with—when reassuring words weren't enough and she needed to forget for a while and just _feel_. The way Spike was trembling against him, practically boneless, told him a break from his foray into the exciting new world of responsibility was just what the doctor ordered.

"On the bed. Now," Xander ordered, flipping Spike back around and shoving him backwards, gently. A questing hand reached up and caressed his arousal through his pants. Xander stilled and hardened his expression despite the strong instinct to curl into Spike's touch. "I didn't say you could move."

Spike froze and Xander noticed he was panting slightly, unnecessarily—something Xander was coming to suspect was a good thing.

"Did you think it was funny to make me your second? Am I a joke to you?" He asked.

Spike shook his head quickly.

"Did you think I wouldn't take my responsibility seriously then?" He asked, drawing his finger down the line of his sternum.

Spike's hips bucked as Xander reached the hem of his trousers and Xander stopped touching. Spike whined low in his throat.

"I said don't move," Xander corrected in his best 'don't fuck with me' voice. Xander crawled backwards off the bed and stood, removing his belt. A flicker of fear crossed Spike's face.

"You think I'm going to use this on you?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Spike cut his eyes and Xander sighed, striding forward quickly and taking the vampire's wrists in his hands before wrapping the belt tightly around them and fastening them above his head. Xander watched Spike struggle against the belt enough to know it would hold as long as he wanted it to, and _only_ as long as he wanted it to.

Spike relaxed and stilled.

"I don't run, Spike. And I don't back down. You need to believe that and learn to trust me. Rely on me." Xander took a Swiss army knife from his pocket before stepping out of his pants and crawling back up the bed to straddle Spike's hips. "I let you drink from me. I let you draw my blood because I trust you. Do you trust me?" He asked, extending the larger blade.

Spike shivered and nodded minutely.

Xander smiled and began slowly drawing the knife down the front of Spike's tee-shirt, slitting the fabric away from Spike's torso. Roughly pulling the fabric loose of his body, he began working on divesting Spike of his pants. An indrawn breath as Xander's fingers ghosted over the outline of his erection spoke to the amount of control Spike was exerting on himself to follow instruction, his tenuous grip on his demon wavering. Xander covered Spike's smaller body with his own, smiling wickedly as his fingers traced Spike's rippling brow. He leaned down, mouth level with his ear. "Come out, come out wherever you are…" he whispered. Then he bit down on the juncture of Spike's neck and shoulder. Hard.

Spike's face shifted as he howled and came. Two short thrusts later, Xander joined him in bliss and collapsed beside Spike, reaching up to free his hands. Spike's arm was immediately thrown over his torso as he pillowed his head on Xander's arm. He groped for the remains of Spike's shirt and cleaned them off before pulling the covers over them and turning out the light.

"You all right?" Xander asked softly.

Spike laughed weakly. "If the other vamps don't kill me, I think you might."

Xander smiled into Spike's hair and held him tighter, hoping his arms would somehow convey the words he couldn't quite bring himself to utter yet.

Spike's sleepy "Love you, pet," however, required no revelation to respond in kind.

"I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

It was pissing rain on Monday. Xander's site was flooded and shut down for the day, affording him the opportunity to run a few much-needed errands while Spike slept.

He swung by his apartment, made sure the door was still on the hinges and collected his mail. Then, recalling a half-formed idea he'd had the day before, he decided to swing by the Magic Box.

"Hey Giles, you—oh. Hi Anya."

Anya didn't look up.

"Giles isn't here. He doesn't come in until eleven on Mondays."

"Right, right. I knew that," he said. Fighting the impulse to run, he began looking for a spell book. "So how are you?" he asked, trying for casual interest.

Anya stepped away from the cash-wrap and came up along side him, presumably to see what he was looking at.

"I'm fine. A little lonely."

Xander smiled sadly at Anya's unfailing honesty.

"You haven't been around much lately."

Anya didn't meet his eye.

"I thought it might be…easier…if I gave you some space. That's what they say you're supposed to do, anyway. When you dump someone."

Xander bit back a laugh.

"That was very thoughtful of you."

"Yes, I know."

"The only problem is, I miss my friend Anya," he told her, only just realizing himself how much it was true.

Anya smiled sadly and threw her arms around his neck. Xander caught her and hugged her tightly. Which was exactly the point when Willow walked in.

"Anya, I got those—oh! Hey there, Xander! I didn't know you'd be here. With Anya."

Willow stood there in shock, paper bag in hand forgotten.

"Xander and I are friends, Willow. You're not threatened by that, are you?" She asked, snatching the bag from her hand.

Willow recovered and shook her head rapidly.

"No! No, not at all! Xander can be friends with whomever he likes," she said, looking at him in confusion, "Just so long as he knows it's not a nice thing to fib to his friends about being friends with other…friends."

Anya turned and hit Xander's shoulder. Hard.

"Xander! I just broke up with you and you already found someone else?"

Xander rubbed his shoulder and stared in shock.

"You mean you actually understood that?"

"Cosmo said you weren't going to have orgasms with anyone for at least another two weeks!"

"Xander's not having orgasms," Willow assured her.

Xander pointedly stared at the floor.

"_Are_ you?" Willow asked with dawning realization. "You are! And you didn't _tell_ me?"

"Hey," he began defensively, "You didn't tell any of us about Tara for _months_."

"Yeah, but the whole 'gay now' thing was actually new then."

"Well it's new to me!"

"Xander's gay now?"

"Yes," Willow answered at the same time Xander answered, "No."

Willow gave him a look.

"Well, maybe. Possibly bisexual?"

Anya nodded understandingly.

"I ruined you for other women. I suspected this might happen."

Willow's jaw dropped but Xander decided to just go with it.

"There will never be another you, An."

Anya sighed wistfully.

"So unfortunately true."

* * *

  
Xander returned to find Spike sitting in bed, nursing a mug of blood and watching Passions.

"Hey," he said.

Spike looked up and smiled before returning to his program. Xander briefly contemplated joining him, but didn't realistically believe he could actually sit through an entire hour of supernatural melodrama.

"Be in the basement if you need me," he told him.

Spike nodded distractedly and Xander went downstairs. There was an ancient tool bench pushed against the far wall of the cellar, near the doors leading to the garden. Stepping out of the protective circle of the partially finished battle zone/training area, he pulled the cord above the bench and the fluorescents hummed into life, unsympathetically illuminating the rusted tools and dusty boxes of screws. Humming softly to himself, Xander went to work sorting and organizing, eventually bringing in his tools from the trunk of his car to join the others on the pegboard, hoping he wasn't being too presumptuous. After sweeping up a little, he went back upstairs to find Spike. Before he reached the first landing, his phone rang. It was Angel.

"We have a problem."

"Oh goodie."

"Word has gotten out about the contest. You're going to have company tonight."

"Who? How many?"

"How many demons does Spike owe money to?"

Xander gulped.

"That many?"

"Buffy and I will take care of crowd control. The others will be monitoring Spike's progress via closed circuit."

"Angel…"

"We'll stay out of the way unless we're needed. It would probably be better if Spike didn't know we were there."

Xander shoved down his frustration.

"What time?"

"We'll be there just after sundown."

Xander sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fine." Click.

* * *

  
As it happened, Xander wasn't the only one feeling less than confident in their odds that evening. Spike was unusually quiet as well. While Riley patched the cameras to Willow's laptop, Willow and Tara performed a spell to magically separate the basement from the rest of the house, allowing the demons access to the cellar and no further. Meanwhile, Xander watched Spike as he pulled items of clothing from an extremely battered steamer trunk and laid them out meticulously on the bed. His jaw was tense as he fingered a leather cuff before extending it to Xander to fasten it around his wrist. Faded jeans Xander thought looked older than him, a ripped black tee shirt, the sleeves long gone and covered in safety pins. His hair was gelled up into spikes. Xander fixed the padlock around the chain on his neck. Mail and armor donned, Spike's hands shook as he tried to apply the war paint.

"Fuck…"

"Here, let me…"

Spike let Xander take the kohl from his hand. With careful concentration Xander lined Spike's eyes.

"Don't look like a raccoon, do I?" Spike asked dubiously.

Xander smirked.

"Never had any complaints from Dawn."

Spike nodded and stood, pacing back and forth to the mirror as if continually forgetting he had no reflection. Xander watched the clock, watched Spike pace, and tried not to think.

* * *

  
By eight, the cellar doors were flung wide and the cavernous basement was filled to capacity with an incredible variety of demons. Unsurprisingly, Spike's prodigious talent for pissing people off knew neither race, creed nor species. Xander noted Angel and Buffy toward the rear of the crowd, partially hidden from view by the stairs. Xander tried to contain his disappointment at being unable to display any sort of tenderness toward Spike, knowing the others were watching via live feed in the kitchen, and briefly considered throwing caution to the wind when the thought intruded that this might very well be his last opportunity to do so. As he watched Spike's hand pass over the hilts of the swords on the wall, however, he thought better of it, not wanting to telegraph to Spike any indication that he was anything less than sure of their impending victory.

Henri and Manon stood off to the side of the circle. After a truncated greeting, Xander purposely avoided Manon's gaze, not wanting to see the confirmation of his failure he feared he'd find there. He hadn't seen Katarine come in, but she stood opposite him across the circle, Alvaro behind her, head bowed. He made the mistake of catching her eye and regretted it immediately. Without Spike at his side, her eyes were cold and dead looking, like a shark. Unfathomable. He shrank into himself unthinkingly and she smiled. Xander wanted to throw up.

Suddenly the crowd grew silent as Awiti entered first, followed by Isma'il, feet and chest bare. His ribs protruded, making him look every bit the twelve-year-old boy that had died, but he moved confidently. He was comfortable in his body, small and underdeveloped as it was, and it showed. Until that moment, Spike had seemingly avoided looking anywhere near Xander. Now though, he saw the fear in his eyes. Xander tried to impart some measure of confidence to him that he didn't really feel. Spike gave him a small, tight smile in return and turned back to his opponent.

Spike took a pike from the wall and bowed. Isma'il received a pike from Awiti and returned the gesture, and then somehow he was behind Spike and his pike had bitten deeply into his leg, nearly severing the tendon behind his knee and drawing first blood. Spike cried out, and spun to spear his adversary, but just as quickly Isma'il rolled out of his reach and thrust the pike forward, narrowly missing Spike's stomach.

Isma'il was quick. Absurdly fast. His size made him difficult to hit, but his ability to turn on a dime made him nearly impossible to anticipate. Even so, Spike seemed to be moving slower than usual. His attacks were stiff and hesitant. While it was commendable that he was taking his foe seriously, struggling to think through his attacks, it was making him vulnerable to the whirlwind surrounding him. Considered planning had _never_ been his strong suit and this was hardly the time for it.

Suddenly, Isma'il feinted and Spike turned into his attack, the pike puncturing his side. Spike screamed and Xander, in desperation, did the only thing he could think of.

"Hey fangless, you think you could aim a little higher if you're going to throw yourself on his spear? Some of us have other things to do tonight and it'd be nice if we could wrap this up."

He heckled him.

Manon gasped in horror. In the back, he thought he heard a slightly hysterical laugh from Buffy.

The stunned silence from the room extended to the fighters and Isma'il's momentary distraction was all Spike needed to regain his footing as he shot Xander a mocking smirk.

"Thought I'd take a page from your book and let him hit me about the head until he got tired," he fired back, regaining a certain amount of bounce in his stride, and easily blocking Isma'il's next thrust. Xander felt Buffy and Angel move up beside him. Several demons, seeing the Slayer, made for the doors.

It was a testament to how much money Spike owed that the others, by and large, did not follow suit.

Spike was moving quicker now, dancing on the balls of his feet as he feinted and dodged. Isma'il went for Spike's Achilles tendon and he jumped, deftly avoiding his swing.

"Oh, please, I've staked _fledges_ with better moves than that," Buffy chimed in.

Spike laughed as he blocked another thrust toward his abdomen.

"No one here wants to hear about your love life, Slayer."

Several demons chuckled and Buffy let out an annoyed huff, but her heart wasn't really in it.

Isma'il's next shot swung wide and Spike overbalanced to block and found himself suddenly disarmed.

"Come on, Spike, if I knew you were going to embarrass me like this I'd have made Dru stake you before you could rise," Angel jabbed.

Spike growled and caught the tip of Isma'il's spear in his hand, blood seeping from his fist as he pulled the smaller vamp on the other end towards him. With a harsh cry, he dragged the pike from Isma'il's grasp, inertia sending him past Spike who whirled around and planted his boot firmly behind the vamp's knee, sending him sprawling.

"Yeah, but who would have given Dru a proper staking with your bollocks tucked up in the ice queen's bustle?" He retorted. Angel frowned. Isma'il rolled to his back and caught Spike's foot in his chest, pinning him to the mat. Before Isma'il could get a solid grip on his boot, he brought the pike down swiftly.

Then everything was dust and silence.

Gradually, murmurs of surprise and shock built into a deafening roar of cheering and the sounds of bets being collected on. Xander felt lightheaded as Spike turned to him, battle weary but smiling and Xander allowed himself to succumb to the overwhelming relief that _they'd won_. Then suddenly, Spike's arms were around his waist and his lips were being crushed in a kiss that threatened to put him off breathing all together.

* * *

  
Upstairs, Riley stared at the screen in stunned disbelief. Behind him Dawn grinned lecherously as Willow and Tara loudly announced to Giles and Anya that now would be an _excellent_ time for a perimeter check now that the battle was over.

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to make sure the wards are still in place," Giles responded.

"Absolutely!" Willow agreed too quickly and much too brightly.

Riley shut the screen on the computer looking slightly green around the gills.

"I think I'll join you."

"That's a good idea. Giles isn't very threatening," Anya chimed in, oblivious to Giles' glare.

"Thank you for that vote of confidence," he replied dryly.

Meanwhile, one floor below, Buffy and Angel were still trying to shake off their shock when Xander caught a glimpse of Awiti sobbing brokenly over the ashes of her Sire. Spike gave him a slight nod of encouragement and as the crowd thinned, Xander approached her slowly and placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

"I—I'm sorry about your Sire," he said. Awiti cried harder.

"He wasn't just her Sire, _cher_," Manon told him quietly, coming up beside him.

Xander watched her rocking herself, tears falling and pooling in the small pile of ash. His eyes widened in understanding.

"He was your son."

Awiti turned large, despairing eyes to him.

"I would not leave him in death," she explained haltingly, her hands shaking as she withdrew a stake from within the folds of her garment. "Let me go to him," she pleaded. "Please. _Nelan suka am kam_!"

Xander took the stake from her outstretched hand, flashing for a moment on how easily it could have been him huddled over that pile of ash. Only _he'd_ have only two days worth of memories belonging to him alone instead of two lifetimes. His tears would be for their lost opportunities—possibilities that would never come to pass. She mourned for the loss of the unlimited future, and deep in the recesses of his heart where his emotions lay coiled in a tangle of fear and insecurity Xander dared to acknowledge he feared the same fate. How many years had he staked and slayed, venting his rage and frustration on the Hellmouth's denizens? How many had loved? How many eternal hopes had he extinguished?

"It would be a kindness to her, _cher_," said Manon, sensing his inner turmoil. "Love or fear keep an immortal alive. She has neither any longer."

Devastation swept through him as his world rearranged itself. Oblivious to Xander's anguish amidst her own, Awiti smiled rapturously at him in ecstasies of grief. Xander closed his eyes, and plunged the stake home, opening them to watch as her ashes joined her son's.

"We will send their remains home to their clan," Manon told him, sending a minion to fetch an urn. Xander nodded solemnly and tried to stop shaking. Spike took him in his arms and he buried his face in his own vampire's neck as he tried to keep from flying apart.

"What the hell is going on?" Buffy asked, finally.

"None of your damn business," Spike bit off, holding Xander tighter.

"_Spike_…" Angel began. With a sigh, Xander stepped out of Spike's protective embrace and held up his hands in surrender.

"_Later_, alright?" Xander asked wearily. "Let's just get everyone out of here and I'll tell you what you need to know."

As the last of the demons trickled out they accepted their congratulations from Henri and Manon, Xander buried his thoughts as he inventoried the weaponry, noted the conspicuous absence of Katarine and with great relief, shut and locked the cellar doors. Alone again, Spike practically sagged against Xander, who reluctantly noted his wounded state and felt the onslaught of hysteria approaching once again.

"Geez, Spike, you look like shit," he said, pulling Spike's arm around his shoulder and assisting him in limping to the stairs, jocularly insulating himself against his intrusive fears.

"Feel like it," Spike responded carefully.

Xander bit his lip and squeezed his good hand before they made their ascent, knowing just on the other side of that door, everything was going to change.

* * *

  
Willow met Giles, Anya and Riley at the backdoor. Riley immediately pushed past her but the others were prevented from following by Willow's upheld hand.

"Looters!"

"I'm sorry?"

"The Magic Box! All those demons…they could be headed there right now. You should go check."

"Willow, I'm quite sure…"

"Giles she might be right. I have to protect my investment," Anya interrupted.

"_Your_ investment?"

Willow began grasping at straws.

"Well…Anya is a very dedicated employee, and I'd think you'd be a little more concerned about the livelihood of your workers!"

Anya's fear for her money was palpable.

"Giles, what's wrong with you? We need to go!"

Giles looked helplessly from female to female.

"I'm certain you're up to something, Willow, but I'm willing to overlook it because I'm frankly knackered. Please try not to do anything I'm going to regret in the morning."

Willow paled and smiled weakly.

"Who…me?"

Giles rolled his eyes and set off back down the garden path, Anya following close at his heels.

Back in the kitchen, Xander was helping Spike to a seat at the table.

"You all right?" Xander asked, voice pitched for Spike's ears alone.

Spike nodded and Xander pulled two units of blood from the fridge and went about heating them while Buffy and Angel looked on in confusion.

"Bit, you mind bringing the first aid? In the cupboard under the bathroom sink," Spike asked Dawn.

"You're not just trying to get rid of me, are you?" She asked shrewdly.

"Course not, would I do that to you?"

Dawn narrowed her eyes.

"Which bathroom?"

Spike hesitated. Dawn appeared to take that as confirmation.

"Upstairs," he sighed.

Dawn pursed her lips and reluctantly left.

"So are either of you planning on explaining yourselves or am I just going to have to draw my own conclusions and make with the staking?" Buffy asked.

Just then, Willow entered and made a beeline for Spike, squeezing Xander's arm on her way past. Stopping just in front of Spike's chair she fixed him in her fiercest glare.

"Shovel."

"What she said," Tara chimed in, lightly.

Spike nodded.

"Understood."

"Wait, he gets the shovel speech? I never got the shovel speech," Angel complained.

"Angel, you're the reason the shovel speech was invented," Buffy snapped irritably. "Will, you knew about this?"

Willow looked anxiously from Xander to Buffy and back. Xander handed Spike the mug of blood from the microwave and turned to Buffy.

"This is a pretty new development, Buffy."

"I—I've only known since Saturday," Willow added.

"What's the angle, Spike?" Angel asked wearily.

"No angle. Whelp an' I are together."

Buffy rounded on Xander.

"Are you out of your damn mind?"

Xander shrugged. Buffy groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"Oh God, this is so _wrong_! Giles is going to have kittens…"

"You can't tell him, Buffy," Xander told her, resignedly, inciting Buffy to storm predictably.

"Do you even _remember_ the fun that wasn't when Giles found out I'd been hiding Angel?"

"_Please_." Xander's tone was quiet but firm. She looked as though it was taking every fiber of self-control to restrain her protest.

"_Fine_. But Giles is going to take one look at Willow and know something's up."

"What's up?" Dawn asked, reentering with the first aid supplies.

"Xan an' me are a couple, like," Spike told her, taking the kit. Dawn squealed.

Xander took the kit from Spike and knelt at his side to begin work on the stab wound in his stomach, focusing all his anxiety on fixing what he could.

"It's kinda true, Xander. I don't think I covered very well," Willow told him.

Xander sighed.

"I'm not buying this," Angel announced. "What are you planning?"

"Not _plannin_' anything except to get patched here an' take my boy to bed," Spike retorted, patience waning. Angel scoffed.

"You can't honestly expect me to believe you're interested in Harris."

Xander couldn't see Spike's reaction but he suspected if he'd looked he'd have seen the shit-eating grin he'd become so well acquainted with.

"You're not gay!" Angel protested vocally.

"Wait a minute, what's wrong with _Xander_?" Buffy asked dangerously.

"Nothing…exactly," Angel hedged. "But Spike's a Master vampire, and Xander's…"

"What, he's not _good enough_ for Spike?"

"Oh, come on, Buffy," Angel smirked.

"If anyone's slumming here, buddy, it's Xander!" She announced in high dudgeon.

"Hey!" Spike and Xander said in chorus, Spike wincing as Xander tied off the last stitch. They were ignored. Xander began wrapping Spike's hand as they shared a wordless conversation.

_You see what I have to put up with?_ Xander's smirk says.

Spike snorts.

_Try a century of that._ Says Spike's answering eye roll.

"Spike is intelligent, literate, educated…"

"Oh give me a break, my _mother_ took him down, and that was back when he was actually supposed to be scary. At least _Xander_ has a job…"

Angel vamped out and Spike looked too surprised by his Grandsire's reaction to give Buffy's words much consideration.

"Xander should be _honored_ that an Aurelian vampire is deigning to put up with…"

"Oh so it's because he's a human is it?" Buffy spat. "Well! I'm glad I finally know how you really feel!"

Angel pointed and shook his head.

"This is completely different and you know it!"

"Hey, GUYS!" Dawn yelled. "Break it up all ready!"

Xander rested his head on Spike's bandaged knee and cool, nicotine stained fingers carded through his hair soothingly.

"Finally, we agree on something," Buffy said softly, glancing in their direction. "They actually look happy."

Xander tuned out the drone of voices as the gentle pressure on his scalp began lulling his battered senses to sleep even as the marble tile aggravated his bad knee.

He was asleep by the time Angel and Buffy offered Spike their tacit approval, and thankfully remained so as Angel carried him to bed, Spike following closely behind, trailing warnings to Angel to keep his pervy hands to himself in his wake.

Despite his nocturnal habits, Spike never left Xander's side that night. And sleeping unawares, he couldn't know how closely Spike's thoughts mirrored his own, turning on the lathe of perilous mortality.


	9. Chapter 9

When Xander awoke, it was to the sight and smell of a cup of coffee shoved under his nose and a far too bright-eyed vampire perched at his bedside.

"Spike, what the hell did you do."

"Me? Don't know what you're talking about."

Xander's eyes narrowed as he took a tentative sip of the coffee. Perfect strength, three teaspoons of sugar. He moaned aloud.

"Please tell me you didn't kill anyone."

"Course not. Just coffee, ain't it?"

Xander snorted.

"So what _is_ the provenance of coffee in bed—and holy shit, Spike it's nine o' clock! I'm late for work!"

"Um, yeah, about that, see I was thinking that maybe since tonight's the night an' all, maybe you could call in sick, like."

Xander's jaw dropped.

"Spike, I can't _afford_ to call in. My boss is already suspicious about the amount of work I've missed because of patrol injuries and I _need_ this job. Hell, I _like_ this job!"

Spike stared at the ceiling. Xander groaned.

"Oh, merciful Christ, you already called me in, didn't you."

"Well if you're going to throw a wobbly about it—"

"A _wobbly_? Buddy, you haven't even _seen_ this weeble start to wobble yet! Where do you think the money for this house is coming from? The money for your blood, which, might I add, Willy is charging me a _fortune_ for…"

"Never mind, Harris, don't do me no favors." Spike snapped, heading for the door. Softly, he added. "Be out of your hair tonight one way or 'nother."

"That's not fair."

Spike whirled on him, eyes bright and jaw clenched tight with emotion.

"No, it's _not bloody fair_!" He spat. "You think I _want_ to dust tonight?"

Xander stared in shock.

"You really think she's going to dust you."

Spike's silence spoke volumes.

Xander sighed and threw back the bedclothes in invitation. Far be it from him to convince Spike this wasn't the last day of his unlife. Buffy and Giles got that look on their face before every apocalypse. He knew better than to start that argument.

"What about work?" Spike asked hollowly, letting a little of his native insecurity show and Xander found most of his frustration ebbing away with that look.

"Gary will deal."

Spike stepped forward tentatively only to be grabbed by the arm and hauled onto the bed. He laughed in surprise as he tumbled down beside Xander who kissed him fiercely.

"Xan…" Spike laughed against his mouth.

Xander broke the kiss with an understanding smile and let Spike begin planning their day.

* * *

  
Xander sighed deeply and turned the hot tap on with his toe, careful not to dislodge the sleeping vampire on his chest as the warm water lapped at their skin. Spike's hair hung in damp curls that clung to his neck and forehead, the lines of his face smooth and untroubled.

_Xander_ felt untroubled. Everything seemed less complicated with Spike. Anya seemed determined to pack so much into every minute of every day there was hardly room to breathe. Even sex had been rigorously expected at 12:02 every night after patrol, not that Xander complained, because as far as schedules go, that was one he could stick to, but everything else…

Spike thought it was his last day on earth and all he wanted to do was watch kung fu and take a bath together.

It should have been disturbingly freaksome how—_committed_—Xander had become in the short time they'd been together, except that it seemed like Spike had been a fixture in his life forever. Which, in a way, he supposed he had. It was the only thing Xander could think of that could explain how they'd only been together all of three days, _declared their love_ and still, Xander wasn't running for the hills. It seemed that whatever this was, however quickly he'd found it and however deeply he'd fallen, it wasn't something he wanted to give up.

He had a niggling suspicion, however, that slaying with Buffy might pose a conflict of interest with serving in Spike's court permanently. No matter _how_ badly Manon wanted another human Consort around.

And _that_ was a thought that bore ignoring for as long as humanly, or inhumanly, possible.

_Denial, thy name is Xander._

Spike yawned and rubbed his eyes. It was adorable and Xander knew he'd get his ass kicked if he said that out loud so he satisfied himself with a sappy smile.

"Hey," Spike said, smiling up through the haze of sleep.

Xander trailed a hand down his arm and buried his face in Spike's hair.

"Hey yourself. Sleep okay?"

Spike groaned and stretched his arms without breaking Xander's embrace.

"Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep on you,"

Xander shook his head fondly.

"You don't _have_ to keep my hours, you know."

Spike's response was almost too soft to make out.

"Don't want to miss anything."

Xander tensed. It was all fine and well for Spike to play it safe, but this was starting to smack of despair.

"You're not just giving up, are you?" He asked.

Spike turned quickly, sloshing water over the side of the tub as he reached to take Xander's face in his hands. His eyes were filled with fire and Xander could almost see the demon in him spoiling for the fight.

"_Never_. Not when I finally got something worth fighting for."

Spike glanced at Xander's lips, his own tongue darting out to moisten his own slightly. Xander sighed internally. He'd always been a sucker for a fighter. Xander brought their mouths together roughly and Spike's hand wound itself in his hair, pulling their lips together tightly while his other hand reached between them and began fisting Xander's cock. Xander moaned deeply and tried to return the favor only to have his hand slapped away.

Spike broke their kiss.

"Not gonna last long if you do that an' I got plans for you," he panted against Xander's mouth.

Xander smiled.

"We got time," he said, trying to imbue those three words with all the confidence in Spike he felt. "Let's move this ashore."

Spike grinned and stood, offering Xander his hand to assist him out of the tub, only to have Xander use it to hoist Spike over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Oi! Put me down!"

Xander giggled, manfully, of course, and complied, setting him down on the marble tile and throwing Spike a towel.

"You're just so compact and portable," Xander explained.

Spike growled and stalked towards him.

"Travel sized for my convenience?" Xander teased.

Spike pounced, pinning Xander to the wall, wrists held fast in Spike's impossibly strong grip as he nipped softly at Xander's throat.

Xander gulped as a haze of lust clouded his vision. Spike looked up at him through hooded eyes and released his hands. Mouths crashed together and hands gripped and caressed and then they were stumbling to the bedroom.

Breaking their clinch with a gasp, Spike's eyes were wide and bright. With tender determination Xander laid him gently on the bed before covering Spike's smaller frame with his own.

Suddenly nervous, Xander let out a shuddering breath.

"Have you ever—"

Spike swallowed and cut him off with a shake of his head. "You?"

Xander felt his face flush and he smirked a little. Spike's eyebrows rose into his hairline.

"Anya," Xander told him as if that explained everything, and Spike nodded, smirking, and Xander thought it probably did. Then Spike shifted his hips, drawing a groan from Xander.

"You gonna corrupt me, love?" Spike purred.

Xander snorted.

"Pretty sure corrupting you would be the definition of redundancy."

Spike chuckled and rocked his pelvis upward.

_And oh God, yes please…_

Xander's eyes fell half closed as he struggled to get control before diving for the tube of lube he'd optimistically stuffed in the nightstand drawer.

"Right then. One debauched vampire, coming right up."

Positioning himself between Spike's legs, he gave the head of Spike's cock an experimental lick, noting the full body shudder that ran through him as he did so. He moaned around the heavy flesh and Spike's hips bucked. When Xander didn't choke, he loosened his grip on Spike's hips and let him fuck his mouth, distantly pleased he seemed to have misplaced his gag reflex. When his teeth accidentally caught on Spike's foreskin and Spike hissed, Xander looked up in alarm only to see his blond head thrown back in ecstasy, his face a rictus of pleasure. Grinning, Xander nipped gently at the underside of his cock and heard Spike let out an inhuman howl.

_Oh, this is_ fun_!_ Xander thought, thumbing the cap off the lube and deftly slicking up his finger. Taking a deep breath he took Spike's cock in his mouth again and hummed deliberately as he pressed firmly against his opening, massaging the pale puckered flesh and watching his lover's head thrash from side to side.

Spike's needy moans were going straight to his hard and leaking cock. Unsure how long he was going to be able to keep from fucking either Spike or the bed, he sped up his preparation, counting on Spike's taste for a little bit of pain with his pleasure to carry him through as Xander slicked the rest of his fingers and slipped one, then two within him.

Xander felt for Spike's arousal-swollen nub and stroked it firmly. Spike gave a great shuddering sob.

"Oh G—God!"

Xander felt his balls draw up and knew it was now or never. Withdrawing his mouth from Spike's cock he brought himself up along side Spike and kissed him deeply.

"Ready?" He asked, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. Spike nodded, breathing heavily and unnecessarily. "Turn around," Xander told him, slicking his shaft. Spike complied, raising himself up on his arms as Xander straddled his hips, rocking his erection into the crease of Spike's ass.

Xander's large hands caressed pale, sharply defined upper arms and his mouth felt feverish as it bestowed soft kisses between pale shoulder blades. Kissing just below his ear, he murmured, "Push out as I push in, got it?" Spike moaned impatiently and nodded.

One deep breath, and then Xander was inside, and it felt like home. Spike clenched and Xander had to bite his lip to keep from coming.

"Shit, Spike," Xander moaned. After a few moments, he began to move. Spike gasped as Xander's thrusts began to hit his prostate and he bucked back against him.

"Fuck, so good," Xander breathed, pounding into Spike in earnest. Bracing himself, he reached around and Spike began fucking himself into Xander's fist.

"_Xander_," Spike groaned.

"So damn beautiful…"

"Ungh…"

Xander's balls tightened and Spike wailed as his thrusts lost their rhythm and restraint.

"_Spike_," Xander cried, cock swelling and shooting deep into his lover's body. Spike keened and followed him over the edge, spending over Xander's fist.

The two lovers collapsed in a sticky, sweaty heap. Xander rolled to his side and pulled Spike to him, unable to do more than stare silently into the stunned expression in his blue eyes. Xander felt as if something hard had broken inside him, loosened, and something warm had taken up residence in his chest.

Eventually though, intensity gave way to slightly goofy grins and soft caresses.

"Can't believe—" Spike began.

"We _did_ that." Xander finished, with a happy laugh. "I know. And it was so—"

"—_Good_." Spike completed lewdly.

"Good." Xander agreed, feeling absolutely full to the brim with contentment.

With a groan he levered himself onto his other side to reach for the bottle of massage oil Manon had left them the night before, while Spike swore and went to fetch a washcloth. He seemed much mollified, however, when they were both clean and bonelessly basking in the afterglow as Spike lay on his stomach while Xander poured oil into his hands and kneaded and caressed away whatever tension dared linger beneath his skin.

"You know, pet, between our spend and that oil you're dripping everywhere, that coverlet you're so prim about is pretty much done for," he said and Xander swore he could _feel_ Spike smirking.

Xander chuckled, too happy to bother about being teased and feeling positively decadent as he leaned into a particularly stubborn knot of muscle.

"Yeah, but _what_ a way to go!"

Spike snorted and Xander placed a kiss on the nape of Spike's neck before wiping his hands off and flopping down beside him.

Spike gave him a peck on the lips and stretched languorously before getting up and pulling on his jeans.

Xander regarded him with curious amusement.

"Gonna leave my money on the dresser then?" He asked wryly.

Spike smirked.

"Worth every penny," he replied, ducking the pillow aimed at his head. "Just gonna step out for a fag," he said, patting down his pockets and turning up an empty pack. "_Shit_. Need to run to the shop for a pack of smokes. You want anything?"

Xander shook his head and slid between the sheets.

"Naw, still pretty blissed out here. Wake me up when you get back?"

"Will do," He said, bouncing over to drop a kiss on Xander's forehead. "Be back in a few, love."

Xander smiled and floated off to sleep on a cloud of endorphins.

* * *

  
"Xander. Xander! Wake up!"

Xander groggily swum up out of sleep to note the darkened state of the bedroom. Buffy stood at his bedside, concern etched deeply in her face.

"Buffy? What's going on? Where's Spike?"

"I was _so_ hoping you weren't going to ask me that."

"What the hell—what time is it?"

"_Nine-thirty._"

Xander was suddenly wide awake.

"Fuck!"

Xander bolted out of bed, heedless of his nudity until he was on the floor fumbling to find his boxers and even then modesty took a back seat to the panic welling in his gut.

_No…no…Spike's fine. I'm sure he's fine. Maybe he went to Willie's. Yeah, we needed blood and I was going to run there earlier but we got…distracted. Maybe there was a poker game. Or a fight. What if there was a fight and he didn't win?_

Or he really was_ that scared and he left you, dumbass. You didn't really think the Big Bad would stick around just for you, did you?_

Xander tried to shake the fear and doubt from his head.

_No! Spike loves me. He said so… It was just nerves, that's all._

Could be. Guess it just depends on what's stronger—his sense of loyalty or his sense of self-preservation. After three days you really want to bank on loyalty?

Xander was pulled from his internal dialogue by Buffy's hand on his arm.

"Angel and Riley are downstairs. Come on."

* * *

  
In the kitchen, Riley and Angel were conferring in hushed tones around the computer monitor. The sight of their collaboration was somehow more disturbing to Xander than waking up alone in the darkened bedroom.

"What's up?" He asked.

"Katarine hasn't showed yet." Angel explained, pointing on the monitor to the split screen showing the demons and hangers-on assembling in the basement as they spoke. "Xander, do you have any idea where Spike is?"

Xander's stomach twisted.

_"You're not just giving up, are you?"_

"Never. Not when I finally got something worth fighting for."

Xander's voice cracked.

"He said he was going out for a pack of cigarettes."

Buffy snorted.

"That's pretty cliché even for him," Buffy admitted.

Angel looked like he'd swallowed a thumbtack.

"We have to assume something happened. It's too much of a coincidence."

"You don't think it's more likely he's high tailing it out of town?" Riley scoffed.

"He wouldn't go without Xander," Angel insisted.

Buffy and Riley exchanged a knowing look.

"And if he just left?" She asked, softly.

Xander felt as though he'd had the breath knocked out of him. Angel's gaze rested on him a moment before he responded.

"Then he'd better hope Katarine finds him before I do."

Suddenly, they heard an accented voice shouting frantically for Xander from the cellar doorway. All four ran from the kitchen to see what was the matter.

"Alvaro?" Xander asked in confusion. Katarine's servant stood at the barrier, eyes wild and in gameface.

"Your Master—" he began.

"WHAT? Where is he?"

_Not dust…not dust…please no…_

"Humans. Nearly a dozen. My Mistress—"

"WHERE IS HE?" Xander screamed.

"I don't know! I had to wait until she left to warn you."

Xander tried to slow down his pounding heart. Tried to think before he ran tearing off into the night shouting Spike's name.

He tried to think like Spike.

"Could it be a trap?" he asked Angel.

Alvaro's eyes widened like saucers.

"Are you willing to take that chance?" Angel asked in response.

Xander let out a breath of frustration and turned back to Alvaro.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked him. Alvaro lifted his chin slightly.

"If Master Spike succeeds, I am free."

Xander nodded.

"That's good enough for me."

Buffy turned to Xander.

"Riley and I will check Spike's old crypt."

Xander nodded in agreement as he took his bat from the duffle bag stashed in the hall closet.

_He's fine. He'll be fine._

He can't fight back, idiot.

Spike can take it.

And if he can't?

Xander adjusted his grip on the bat.

"Angel, you're with me."

* * *

  
Quickly and quietly they stalked through the silent streets with single minded purpose.

"What do you intend to do if we find them," Angel asked as they rounded the corner.

"What I have to," he responded simply, surprised his voice didn't break as fight and flight continued their war for dominance within his adrenal glands.

_If they dusted him…_

"Xander, they're human—"

"And so am I. You were right. If I can't defend this territory, I'm a liability to him."

"You understand what that means? Do you know what you're doing? Taking a human life…"

"Are you going to try and stop me?" Xander interrupted him.

Angel looked away for a long moment.

"No. I won't."

They found them a couple blocks from the 7-Eleven. Spike was on the ground surrounded by seven or eight guys. He wasn't moving.

Xander watched as hopes and dreams of a future with Spike begin to disintegrate. Hopes and dreams he hadn't even realized he had. In a moment of perfect clarity he saw them patrolling together, drinking together, fighting together. Making love together. It was slipping away before he'd even begun to realize what he was in danger of losing.

_An unlimited future._

"No…no…no…" He chanted in desperation.

Xander started running. With a roar he raised the bat and brought it down over the head of the nearest man, who collapsed, stunned and bleeding. The others stopped what they were doing and looked up in confusion.

Xander took in the sight of Spike's battered and broken body and let his empathy go without a fight. He started swinging blindly, heedless of the gore that covered him, unaware of the elder vampire's growls as he herded the men back into the range of Xander's powerful swings, the screams of the men a dull roar beneath the rage, the violation, the disgust that his brave warrior had been felled by these artless thugs.

"Xander—Xander! XANDER!" Angel's voice cut through his inhuman cries of rage as he continued bashing, long after the last man had stopped twitching, their blood coating his face and hands.

Xander dropped the bat and fell to his knees at Spike's side, lifting him into his arms.

"Not dust…not dust…"

Spike's bones shifted unnaturally, he was bloody and bruised, but he wasn't dust yet, and that was something. He left a smudge of blood with a gentle press of lips to forehead and wiped it off delicately.

"Love you. _Please_, gonna fix you, just hold on."

Xander set off for home without seeing if Angel followed.

* * *

  
Dawn was waiting for them at the door.

"Angel called. Take him upstairs," she told him, ushering them inside.

Buffy waited for them in the bedroom, first aid close at hand.

_Gotta set the bones, gotta clean him up…_

"Xander, your face—" Buffy cried. Xander glanced briefly in the mirror and saw the blood coating his reflection and splattered on his shirt.

"It's not mine."

_Too much blood. Shit, haven't gone by Willie's yet. Should have done that earlier…_

Buffy tensed and asked quietly after a long moment.

"Did you kill them?"

Xander didn't respond, settling Spike gently on the bed.

_So much blood…_

"Never going to get this duvet clean now," Xander muttered, feeling the hysterical laughter bubbling up.

"They'll live," Angel told Buffy who was staring at her friend in horror.

_Looks so gray. Can't feed him pig like this. Need blood…need blood…_

Xander pulled out his knife and sliced deeply into his wrist.

"Xander, no!" Buffy cried. He wrenched his arm from her grasp and thrust his wrist into Spike's mouth, coaxing the first few drops down his throat with a finger until Spike shifted into gameface and he felt the pulling start with a jolt like he'd just grabbed an electric fence.

_Yes, thank God. Safe…for now._

With a sigh of relief he left his wrist in Spike's mouth and accepted a washcloth from Dawn, gently bathing the vampire's swollen face and wiping away the dried blood. After a few minutes he felt the piercing headache begin, his blood pounding in his ears.

"Xander, that's enough," Angel told him quietly. Xander gently disengaged his wrist from Spike's mouth, careful not to catch himself on his fangs. "Dawn, you and Xander hold Spike's hips steady while I set his legs, all right?"

"O—okay," Dawn said. Xander squeezed her hand across Spike's still form before latching on, profoundly grateful for her understanding presence.

"Ready? Pull!" Angel ordered, pulling hard on Spike's booted foot and releasing as the bones slid into place. Twice more and all Spike's limbs were aligned. Xander removed his shirts and cleaned the blood from his torso quickly before accepting the roll of tape from Buffy and mechanically bandaging his ribs. Dawn and Buffy looked away as Xander and Angel removed his boots and jeans. A knife wound on his thigh had to be reopened to remove the grit that had already been partially healed over.

"Shit, I thought we were moving faster than this," Xander said to himself.

"Human blood can do that," Angel explained quietly, prepping the needle and thread as Xander finished cleaning the wound. Seven stitches, as neat as Xander could make them with his hand shaking, and Spike was settled under the covers to recover. Before he had a chance to register what was happening, Dawn had taken Angel's knife and was cutting into her own wrist.

"Dawn!" Buffy cried out, rushing to take the knife from her sister. The cut had been made, however, and she couldn't stop Dawn before her wrist was pressed to Spike's lips.

"Angel said it helps," Dawn snapped.

Xander stared at Dawn in amazement. She took his hand and he kissed it.

"_Thank you_," he told her.

Angel tapped Dawn's shoulder gently and Xander was stunned to see his wrist go to Spike's mouth.

"Sire's blood," he explained unnecessarily and slightly apologetically.

"Oh fine, _here_," Buffy said, extending her bleeding wrist when Angel finally pulled away.

"Buffy, are you sure?" Xander asked as Spike began drawing on the wound.

"I'm not doing this for him, doofus," she said, but her eyes were kind as she said it.

Xander accepted her peace offering for what it was.

* * *

  
Xander's mind was an exhausted blank when the knock came on the bedroom door. He sat against the headboard, Spike's body cradled against him, Dawn perched at the foot of the bed, a comforting hand on his ankle. Buffy sat in the one chair, head in hands while Angel paced silently. All looked up when Angel opened the door and Alvaro appeared in the doorway.

"Is he—"

"He'll survive, thanks to you."

"Mistress Katarine is waiting."

"_Let her wait!_" Xander growled.

"Xander—" Angel began.

"That _bitch_ set this up!"

"If you don't go down there, she has the right to claim the Hellmouth."

Xander slammed his fist against the bedpost.

"Xander," Angel continued quietly. "You're his second."

Xander took a deep breath. This was how it had to be. She manipulated them to take her petty revenge and now he had to fight. He sighed resignedly.

"I'll need a second. Angel, if you're looking to do right by your Grandchilde, now's your chance."

"Xander you don't—"

Xander cut Buffy off with a withering look.

"You really don't want to finish that sentence. Angel, are you in?"

He nodded once. Xander disengaged his hold on Spike, lowering him gently to the bed and pressing a kiss to his still lips. In the corner of the room stood a long narrow box from which Xander drew Joyce's axe and weighed it in his hand.

"Then let's finish this."

* * *

  
The din in the basement was deafening until Xander descended the stairs and a hush fell over the room. Katarine stood on the mat, looking regal and smug. Xander hadn't had time for a shower and the blood of Spike's attackers still covered his hands, face and shirtfront. She smiled and bowed. Xander remained stone faced and took his position, hands bare of weapons. She scoffed and roughly pulled a mace from the wall before charging. Xander barely managed to leap out of range.

Katarine swung the mace wildly, and pure luck prevented Xander from taking more than several deep gouges to his extremities, rather than the loss of limb intended.

Xander rolled as the mace passed over his head with a whistle.

"Xander!" Buffy cried.

"This is beneath me, human. You postpone the inevitable! Choose your weapon!"

Xander looked to Angel. He shook his head. _Damn_.

"You getting tired all ready? Funny, I thought you were pretty young, for a bloodsucker."

With a primal scream she swung again and three long stripes of flesh were torn from Xander's back. He cried out.

"Fool! Your Master has turned your head with flattery, but he is weak! He has polluted his line with humanity! He should have been put down like a lame horse when he was first—infected—should have walked into the sun and strengthened us all! Instead he takes. One. Into. His. Bed!"

Her words were punctuated by swings of the mace, only grazing Xander this time who was beginning to tire and looked to Angel yet again, and again a shake of his head was his only response. Xander took a deep breath and struggled to rally.

"You blighted beasts! You think you can best me? You are food to GODS! You will learn your place when I open the mouth of Hell and order is restored at last!"

Xander dodged another swing, this one sloppier than the last as her zealous cant reached a fever pitch.

"Xander!" Angel cried.

As she swung, Xander tripped and overshot his feint, landing directly in the path of the deadly, pendulous head. With a triumphant cry the blow impacted—

"_Barban_," Xander whispered.

—With the mist where Xander previously lay.

"_Was?_" She cried, echoing the confused tumult of the crowd.

Xander reappeared behind her.

"Angel!"

Xander caught the battered fire axe thrown him and brought it around in a mighty swing, separating the vampiress' head from her shoulders. Silence reigned as the last motes of dust drifted slowly to the mats.

_Over. It worked. It's over._

Alvaro came forward then, and much as Xander had seen Awiti kneel before the remains of her son and Sire, he stooped before the mound of ash and spat in it.

Bowing to Xander, he said, "I am at the mercy of your Master."

Xander didn't know what to say. He felt weak, blood and magic drained, his energy sapped. The axe fell from his hand.

"Xander!" Angel yelled as the edges of his vision began to gray.

Xander blacked out.


	10. Chapter 10

For the second time in as many days, Xander awoke to the smell of coffee. As he cracked one eye open, the morning sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains cast Dawn's eager face in an ethereal glow.

"Breakfast?" She asked and Xander noticed the bed tray laden with funny shaped pancakes and scrambled eggs. Xander self-consciously noted his state of undress, thankful at least that whoever had seen to him last night had at least had the forethought to leave his underwear on before tucking him in beside Spike.

Said vampire stirred slightly and Xander held his breath. Dawn set the tray down with a noisy clatter.

"Spike?" He asked, hesitantly.

"Xan? Who made brekkie?"

Xander let out a deep sigh of relief and clasped Spike's hand beneath the covers.

"Dawn brought us breakfast in bed."

"You didn't let her cook, did you?"

"Standing right here!" Dawn protested. Spike opened his eyes, squinting into the daylight.

"So you are. Hmm," he said, taking a deep whiff of the tray. "Smells all right. Witches downstairs?"

"I'm not that bad!" She insisted. Xander snorted and received a smack on the arm for his trouble.

"Hey, injured man here!"

"Injured?" Spike asked, immediately scanning Xander for damage and reaching out to trace the bandaged stripes on his torso.

"Hey, ow!" Xander complained.

"Who did this, love? Who hurt you?" Spike growled.

"Easy there, tiger, I just fixed you, I don't need you running off and testing my very shaky surgical skills just yet."

"Those goons? Did they do this?"

Xander exchanged a silent look with Dawn and she stepped out of the room.

"Angel and I found you last night. You don't need to worry about those guys anymore."

Spike looked at Xander with dawning realization, then closed his eyes in an expression of sharpest pain.

"Are they dead?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

Spike nodded, still suspicious but new tension settled in his frame.

"We need to get you out of town. It's only a matter of time before Katarine sends more humans or finds some other way—"

"Katarine won't be bothering us anymore, either," Xan said quietly.

Spike stared at him in frank horror.

"Angel?" He asked hopefully.

Xander smiled self-deprecatingly. "Hey, at least it looks like I'm going to have some nifty souvenirs when these stitches come out," he said.

Shock and horror warred in Spike's expression.

"Pet, not that I'm not proud or nothin', an' don't take this the wrong way, but—how?"

Xander smiled at that.

"Joyce's axe."

Spike shook his head in amazement and reached out delicately to touch Xander.

"I'm not going to break," he said softly. Spike let out a noise like a whimper and pulled Xander to him fiercely.

"Careful!"

"Sorry," Spike said, loosening his embrace. "You're hurt."

"No, I'm just worried about those ribs of yours. How are _you_ feeling?"

Spike shrugged, and worried at the bandage on Xander's wrist with a knowing look.

"Better than I should by any right. Ribs seem fine. Don't suppose you'd know anything about that?"

Xander looked down.

"You were hurt."

Spike nodded and continued to stroke his hand in silent contemplation until Dawn knocked on the door.

"Are you two having sex in there?"

Xander blushed to his roots and covered his face as Spike laughed.

"Come in, Nibblet."

Dawn bounded over and jumped on the bed, nearly upsetting the tray.

"Spike your blood's clotting," she noted, looking into the mug she nearly spilled.

He rolled his eyes.

"Ta muchly. What's all this?"

She held out a parchment envelope to Spike and Xander immediately paled and rose to escape.

"Yeah, um, I'm just going to see if Willow and Tara need any help down there—"

Spike grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"Sit."

"Sitting."

Spike opened the envelope and retrieved the letter. Xander scanned the fluid script over Spike's shoulder.

_William t. Bloody_

My manservant informs me that in the matter of my debt of eleven pounds sterling, we are, as they say, square. I have also been informed that as he has joined your household it would be inappropriate for me to retain his services and am therefore releasing him to your care. Be aware, however, that should he desire to terminate your understanding, he is always most welcome in my court and I will be very displeased if I find any harm has come to him. He is a strange and off-putting young man, but absurdly and rather unquestioningly loyal. I like that.

Cordially, etc.

D

Xander shrank back into the bedclothes as Spike finished reading.

"Want to tell me what this is about, love?"

Xander gulped. Remembering Manon's advice he decided to try the direct route for a change.

"I thought it would be a good idea to have a back up plan in case I actually had to fight one of the Masters and Buffy said Dracula owed you and that you said most of his magic was human gypsy stuff, which, hey, at least I knew I could pronounce Rumanian kinda, and I figured maybe he'd feel some kind of loyalty to his manservant which reminded me I should probably tell him I wasn't anymore since you and I have a thing."

Spike stared at him.

"Um, surprise?"

"You telling me you convinced Drac to give you one of his spells, told him to piss off in the next breath and he actually did it all because he owed me _eleven bloody pounds_?"

Xander shrugged.

"I don't know whether to kill your or kiss you for going to that wanker, but I'm not going to think too hard about it, 'cause the thought of you going up against the Mistress of Sao Paolo is enough to start my heart beating again. Guess I should just be glad you're all right, love."

Xander smiled and caressed Spike's cheek with the back of his hand.

"Ditto."

Just then there was another knock on the door. Xander rolled his eyes.

"Come in," he called out. It was Willow.

"Oh, you didn't touch your breakfast, is everything okay? I can do waffles if you'd—"

"It's fine Will. I was just explaining to Spike about the spell."

Willow blanched.

"So he _knows_. O-okay. Well then. Um, you know that I only tweaked his pronunciation a little and I swear it was totally safe! He reappeared almost every time we practiced and I only had to reform his atoms once!"

"WHAT?" Spike shouted.

Xander flinched.

"Willow, please, don't help. Spike, it's over and done with. It was all my idea and Willow just made sure I didn't screw it up. No more spells for the Xan-man. I promise."

"Xander—" Spike began.

"Oh! Manon wanted me to give this to you when you woke up. Here…" Willow extended a lightly perfumed sheet of stationary to Spike.

"What is it?" Xander asked. Dawn peeked over the top.

"Henri and Manon had to go back to New Orleans early," Spike told them, scanning over her elegant script. "Apparently a necromancer blew into town over the weekend and enslaved half their minions."

Xander whistled low. Spike folded the note and handed it to Xander.

"They'll be fine. Manon's immune and she'll drop a house on the bugger before he knew what hit him."

Willow cleared her throat.

"Um, also, Alvaro's downstairs. He wants to swear allegiance to you as soon as you're ready and, hey, no hurry or anything except that he's driving Tara a little crazy in the kitchen and um, we really need to get back to the Magic Box before Giles and Anya get suspicious and are you _sure_ you don't want to just tell them what's going on? Because I don't know how long I'm going to be able to keep up the sneaky thing."

Spike looked at him expectantly and Xander sighed.

"I'll tell them. Just, let me get my strength back, all right?"

Spike looked pleased and Willow let out a sigh of relief.

"Great! Well should I—"

"Go on and send him up. Bit, you mind giving us a little privacy to get our kit on?"

Dawn squeaked and leapt off the bed after Willow.

* * *

  
Alvaro was practically vibrating when Angel escorted him to the room. If Spike was surprised to see his Grandsire there, he didn't say anything and Angel seemed content to observe from the doorway.

As Xander watched from the bed, Spike stood before the kneeling minion and bit his own wrist, offering it to Alvaro who took it and drew on the wound, hardly more than a sip before Spike withdrew his wrist, hoisted the man from the floor and bit his neck, deliberately obscuring the scar Katarine had left with his own.

Pulling back after taking just enough to seal the deal, Spike clapped Alvaro on the shoulder, rocking him slightly on his feet.

"Right then. Don't stand much on ceremony, so we'll just take it as read that you don't betray me and I won't rip out your entrails. Agreed?"

Alvaro nodded eagerly despite his confusion.

"Xan, anything you want to add?"

Xander was taken aback.

"Me?"

"Yeah. House is yours, innit?"

Angel cleared his throat.

"Xander, technically Alvaro serves Spike's court, which, I'm guessing he means to include you in."

"You are?" He asked.

Spike suddenly looked unsure.

"Never really talked about it I guess, but yeah. You wanna?"

Xander grinned.

_I'm sure Buffy will understand…somehow_.

"Yeah, I wanna."

Spike beamed and turned back to Alvaro.

"You heard my servant. As soon as he's well, he'll show you the ropes. In the meantime you can go to his apartment and get the rest of his gear over here. Just…put it in the cellar and we'll sort it later, yeah?"

"Yes, Master Spike," he responded. Spike looked to Xander in silent conference.

Xander gestured to his throat.

"Oh, right. An' no killin' either. Go on an' pick us up a case from Willie's on the way back. If you're peckish you can have a nip off of that, but I hear you've been snacking on the locals an' I'll let the Slayer have her way with you, understood?"

"Yes, Master Spike!"

"Off you go, then."

Alvaro scampered out as if the hounds of hell were chasing him. Spike settled himself heavily on the bed, clearly still feeling the effects of his blood loss, despite how remarkably quickly he seemed to be healing.

Spike looked up at Angel.

"Seems I got you to thank for looking out for us last night."

Angel shook his head.

"Just set a few bones. Xander didn't need much besides a few bandages."

"Yeah, an' remarkably I can walk today," Spike said knowingly.

Angel cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I might have helped with that a little, along with Xander and Dawn and Buffy."

"_You let the Bit_—"

"Let, isn't exactly the right word, Spike," Xander interjected. "You know how much she loves you."

Spike hung his head.

"Slayer an' all, eh?"

Angel nodded.

"Thank you," Spike said quietly.

Angel coughed stoically and nodded again and Xander thought he was starting to look like a bobble head. He snorted and drew Angel's attention.

"Xander…" He began.

"Yeah?"

Angel looked around the room for his next statement and seemed to find it near the dresser.

"Cordelia misses you."

Xander grinned.

"Maybe we'll swing by sometime."

"Good. Well I should go." Angel said awkwardly. "See you around." Spike rolled his eyes.

"Be seeing you, Angel."

* * *

  
_Three Weeks Later…_

Xander stood at the plate, poised to strike. He heard Dawn and Buffy cheering from the stands.

"Come on, Xander!"

The suggestion to start a Santa Series league during the off season between the four or so construction companies based in Sunnydale had been met with a great deal of enthusiasm from Xander's foreman. It gave him something to do, anyway, when Spike was busy mediating demon squabbles, or occasionally, sleeping, something they were going to need to talk about real soon because between patrolling with Buffy, being Master of Sunnydale and trying to keep up with Xander's daytime schedule, he got the impression Spike was running himself into the ground. Not that he would admit it.

"Harris, you better knock this one out of the park!" Carlos shouted from behind the fence. Xander caught a glimpse of platinum hair and rising cigarette smoke under the lights and Xander's heart leapt. His first night game of the series, and Spike managed to get away to watch. He smiled and caught his eye before turning back to meet the wind up and the pitch.

With a mighty crack the ball soared high over the field and Xander ran for all he was worth, hearing the cheers as their men on third, then second, then first rounded the home plate. Xander caught the signal from the coach and put on a burst of speed, sliding into the home plate just ahead of the catcher's mitt.

"Safe!"

Xander was swept along in the deafening cheers, proud and pleased to see the faces of his friends—his family—among the throng, Spike's chin lifted in pride, well apart from the mob on the field. It was a small thing, but it was nearly enough to erase a lifetime of painful indignities. Almost.

Anya beamed at him beside Buffy and Tara, Willow and Dawn bringing up the rear of the crowd, the smaller girls wary of being knocked around by his celebrating teammates. She had taken the news of Spike with graceful indifference. He only hoped Giles would be similarly nonplussed when he returned from his buying trip to London next week.

He still patrolled every night with Buffy and the gang, and he woke up every morning beside Spike. Alvaro tended the garden and kept the house clean and Xander had to admit having a vampire for a butler wasn't the worst thing in the world if it got him out of cleaning the demon goo out of his shirts. So far, _his_ duties to Spike seemed to encompass sex, arguing around the kitchen island, training together (and hey, he'd been knocked on the head during patrols at least forty-five percent less since that started), more sex, watching cartoons together, shooting pool at the Bronze, still more sex and generally sharing space, quiet moments and the understated joy of someone to come home to at the end of the day.

They still hadn't brought up the Consort issue, but that was fine with Xander. What they had now was good. Having it forever wasn't such a scary thought anymore, but there was plenty of time now to think about the future while they enjoyed the present for what it was.

Gradually, Xander came back to earth, the crowds went home, the gear was locked up in the fieldhouse and it was just him and the gang once again. And Spike.

"Looked pretty good out there, whelp. Still choking up too high on that bat, though. Could have gotten another twenty yards out o' the ball at least."

Xander rolled his eyes.

"I thought vampires didn't play baseball."

Spike shrugged and smirked.

"They don't. Doesn't mean I don't know my way around a bat. You know you can send a head thirty feet if you hit it—"

"SPIKE!" They chorused.

"Some of us plan to eat again," Buffy griped.

"You could skip a few meals," Dawn added, yelping as Buffy's fist connected with her arm. "That's gonna bruise! I'm telling mom!"

"Th—that was a r-really great hit, Xander," Tara said, bravely changing the topic. Willow beamed and took her hand, nodding in agreement.

"I haven't seen you play like that since you and Jesse…anyway, it was amazing." Willow told him, a little sadly. Xander squeezed her other hand and smiled.

"I'm sure wherever he is he's still ranting about the curve ball I missed in the fourth inning." Willow laughed and Xander felt a little of that old hurt give itself up when he realized it didn't hurt quite so much to think of Jesse any more.

"Yeah, that were total crap, love," Spike agreed.

"SPIKE!" Yelled the others.

Xander laughed.

"Actually, I gotta go with bleach boy on that one. It was a boneheaded mistake. What do you say I buy the first round as penance?"

Buffy grinned.

"That'll do."

"But that's _it_, though, Xander. No paying for your own drinks after that." Willow scolded.

"I got paid at the shop, today, so I'll buy a round," Anya offered. Everyone stared. "What? I can be generous. And it encourages others to offer similar gestures, so it should even out."

Xander laughed and nudged Spike's shoulder with his own, feeling Spike's fingers intertwine with his as they walked toward the Bronze.

"Gonna hustle the tables?" He asked as they fell behind the rest of the group.

"Oh yeah," Spike said. "Gotta get enough dosh to stand a round, apparently." He sounded put out but his eyes glinted with amusement and pride and more than a little love, Xander thought.

"Save me a game?" He asked.

Spike tightened his grip on Xander's hand.

"Always, love.

 

"Always."

 

_The End._


End file.
